Star Shots
by Cordria
Summary: A collection of 100 short stories and drabbles, ranging from gooey to creepy, K through T. See chapter 1 for a list of stories, summaries, genres, and ratings.
1. One Moment to Forever

**'Star Shots' Table of Contents:**

_-A Blast from the Past (98) _- Why did Jack and Maddie decide to build a ghost portal anyways? Rated: K, Genre: friendship  
_-A Day in the Life (56)_ - Cujo knows _exactly_ what he wants... Rated: K, Genre: general/humor  
_-A World Tipped on its Head (90) -_ Something strange is going on... AU, Rated: K, Genre: adventure  
_-Abcedf Ghi (89)_ - A story in poem form. Rated: K, Genre: poetry  
_-Ain't it a Glorious Day (78)_ - It really is. Pointless Lancer/Danny bonding fluff. Rated: K, Genre: general/friendship  
_-Airplane (29)_ - Ever wonder what that guy was thinking on the airplane during "Mystery Meat"? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Attack of the Clone (96)_ - Vlad's plan has gone horribly awry. Rated: K, Genre: tragedy/general  
_-Attack of the Sues (80)_ - Stupid Mary/Gary Sue drabble. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Bane: Swimming with the Fish (34)_ - First of an AU series of oneshots about my favorite evil character... Bane! Rated: K, Genre: horror  
_-Brother's Cairn (40) _- Simple, little ghost story plot bunny. Rated: K, Genre: horror  
_-Closing Rifts_ _(93)_ - Tucker's gone over to the dark side... and he's bringing Jazz along for the ride. Rated: T, Genre: angst  
_-Collapse (2)_ - Our hero is lost in the rubble of the theater after it explodes. Inspired by "Miracles Happen" by Myra. Rated: K, Genre: adventure  
_-Command (21)_ - In reality, the only loopholes and mental back-flips kept him from being a murder. But it wouldn't last. Rated: K, Genre: horror  
_-Computer Games (68)_ - Paulina and Star are playing around on the computer. Rated: K, Genre: humor/friendship  
_-Cookie Dough (84) - _Danny's got something he needs to tell his mom. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Crystals (43)_ - DxS fluffiness in class, with ice powers. Rated: K, Genre: friendship/romance  
_-Death of a Son (31)_ - Dark and angsty. Warning for suicide and murder. Maddy/Danny piece. Rated: T, Genre: tragedy  
_-Decisions (65)_ - A Clockwork piece about the strange decisions some humans make. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Descent (41)_ - What would you do to save the world? Would you give in? Rated: T, Genre: horror/angst  
_-Diabolical (13)_ - You'll never guess who's behind the latest attacks! Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Disappeared_ _(94)_ - The day Danny disappeared, nobody noticed. Rated: K, Genre: suspense  
_-Donner, Party of Two (67)_ - A plane crash forces Danny to make the ultimate choice. Rated: T, Genre: angst  
_-Dreams (87) - _Maddie's personal nightmare. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-Embers (22)_ - Poor Ember. She had a harsh life. Inspired by a friend. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Emotions (97)_ - She's locked in a cage with no way out. Rated: K, Genre: suspense/angst  
_-Eternity (58) _- Ghosts just aren't set up to live alone. Rated: K, Genre: friendship  
_-Failure (77)_ - It was a test. One she couldn't pass. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-The Fall (9)_ - Maddie's fight turns into a nightmare. Dark and depressing. Rated: K, Genre: angst/horror  
_-Fear Me (15) _- Meet the Ghost Zone's lastest villian... someone you'd never expect... Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-The Fenton Family Meeting (63)_ - Danny sits down for a revealing family meeting. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Ghost Fruit (12)_ - Even ghosts deserve a fairy tale. Rated K, Genre: general  
_-Ghostly Love (53)_ - Maddie makes a startling observation about a certain ghost-boy. Rated: K, Genre: romance/angst  
_-Grand Canyon (27) _- Danny and Dash take an unexpected 'trip' to the Grand Canyon. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Graveside Contemplations (39)_ - Maddie meets an unexpected visitor at her son's grave. Rated: T, Genre: tragedy  
_-Guardians of the Secret Series:_ Rated: K, Genre: general  
_--Casper High Peace Officer (71)_ - He knows something.  
_--Ghost Insurance (75)_ - He's cashing in on the Phantom.  
_--The Neighbor (72)_ - All she wanted was her windows fixed.  
--_The Youngest Fan (88) - _He's in kindergarten and saw something amazing.  
_-His Own Little World (36)_ - Dash gets to witness Danny's nightmare... Rated: T, Genre: horror  
_-The House (57)_ - A story of four characters unravels in an age-old style. Rated: K, Genre: angst/general  
_-Hunter (17)_ - Skulker attacks Maddie and Danny in the lab. Part of a larger story arc that won't get written. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-I Need to Go (60) _- Danny's taking a walk when he runs into a ghost that really needs to go somewhere. Rate:d K, Genre: general  
_-I'm Sorry! (46) _- Valerie's deepest desire becomes her worst nightmare. Rated:T, Genre: angst/tragedy  
_-Impossible Battles (64)_ - Danny needs to fight to save someone... but who? Rated: K, Genre: tragedy/adventure  
_-Imprints Series: _Rated: K, Genre: general  
_--The Playground (3)_ - One lost girl on the swings and a boy who can do nothing but watch helplessly.  
_--The Nursery (33)_ - A ghost haunts the third-floor of an abandoned building.  
_-Juggler (30)_ - Playing with simple evil things. Everybody does it, even the good guys. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Jumping to Conclusions (42) _- Poor Danny in the park. Is everything as it seems? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Just a Chess Game (14)_ - Danny and Clockwork clash over a game of chess. Rated: K, Genre: general/friendship  
_-Just Another Day in Paradise: Bad Dream_ _(32)_ - Cute, fuzzy, possible future fic. Rated: K, Genre: general/romance  
_-Kari (70)_ - Is Maddie's old friend evil or not? Rated: K, Genre: angst/suspense  
_-Lake Monster (19)_ - Jazz tells all during a children's fishing trip. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Left - Right - Left - Right (62)_ - What a difference one little choice makes. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-May Madness (91) _- Tucker woke up one night in May to find that it's... snowing? Rated: K, Genre: humor/friendship  
_-Molasses (54)_ - A barbeque thrown by Kwan gets an unexpected guest. Rated: K, Genre: friendship/humor  
_-Murder, He Wrote (81) _- GhostWriter needs some help understanding what it's really like. Rated: T, Genre: tragedy  
_-The Nanny (18)_ - Danny gets a Nanny and everything goes horribly wrong. AU, Rated: T, Genre: suspense  
_-New Years Revelations (55) _- An ooey-gooey DxS holiday bit of fluffy. Rated: K, Genre: romance/friendship  
_-Not so Accidentally (61)_ - What if the accident in the portal wasn't REALLY an accident? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Obsessions (59)_ - Spectra tries to do some psychology on the Box Ghost. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-One Moment to Forever (1)_ - Danny is frozen in time for a second as we contemplate him. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Overheard Conversations (95) _- Maddie overhears Skulker and Danny having a little chat. Rated: K, Genre: humor/suspense  
_-The Pendulum (10)_ - Clockwork contemplates Danny's future. Spooky and deep. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Phantom Trials (25)_ - Phantom goes on trial for the murder of Danny Fenton. Rated K, Genre: suspense  
_-Polygraph (92) - _Danny's strapped into the GiW's new lie detector! Rated: K, Genre: suspense/humor  
_-Prints (66) _- Phantom is knocked out and brough to the hospital. What happens next? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Puzzles (26)_ - Danny gets the ultimate revenge on his sister. Happy Birthday!! Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Real Life Oneshots: _Rated: T, Genre: adventure/suspense/angst  
_--Real Life Introduction (48)_ - What would Danny Phantom be in real life? Spooky, that's what.  
_--Octopi (49)_ - 'Real' Danny fights a spectral octopus.  
_--The Ghost Zone (50)_ - 'Real' Danny visits my version of the Ghost Zone.  
_-Revelations (4)_ - Why is it that Jack is forever testing his inventions on Danny? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Running (47)_ - Danny's lost everything he ever held dear, and now all he can do is run. Rated: K, Genre: angst/tragedy  
_-The School (76)_ - Danny's a bit too late to save the school from the ravenges of a Hellish spirit. Rated: T, Genre: tragedy/horror  
_-Shards (24)_ - Danny gets captured by an old "friend" with a grudge and a few shards of red crystal. Rated K, Genre: horror  
_-Silence Unending (44)_ - An unexpected glance into Vlad's future. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-Spectral Spy (86) - _Jack gets a visitor... a strange visitor. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Splinters Series: _- The untold stories behind the "Pits". Rated: K, Genre: general  
_--Gory (38)_ - Part 1 for Gory!  
_--Jai (51)_ - Part 1 for Jai!  
_-Sugar Rush (8)_ - Featuring the Fantastic Master of the Days Right After Halloween. Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Summer Muskie (20)_ - Jazz gets her ultimate revenge during a family fishing trip! Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Stars in Blood (6)_ - An in-depth look at a few moments after Skulker attacks. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-Sweet Dreams (73)_ - A creepy/sleepy look at second person present point of view. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Tapes (52) _- Not everything is as it seems... sometimes we're just stuck in our own little worlds. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-Three Months and Counting Series: _Rated: K, Genre: suspense/angst  
_--Danny (28)_ - Something is seriously wrong when Danny shows up for school...  
_--Jack (35)_ - Part 2  
_--Maddie (37)_ - Part 3  
_-Timely Returns Series_: Rated: K, Genre: angst  
--_5:27pm (79)_ - Danny's been gone for two years and suddenly he's back.  
_--5:49pm (83)_ - Part 2  
_-Travel Service (16)_ - How come Danny, Sam, and Tucker can fly across the country to Vlad's without their parent's noticing they are _gone_? Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Tree Therapy (23)_ - Sam's bad day is cured by some helpful plants. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-True Rulers (45)_ - Meet the evil behind the Phantom... Rated: K, Genre: humor/general  
_-Two Roads (11)_ - Danny lives out Robert Frost's famous poem "A Road Not Taken." Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-An Uncommon Birthday (74)_ - Happy Fourth Birthday Danny Phantom! Rated: K, Genre: humor  
_-Vortex (5)_ - It's all a matter of perspective, after all. Rated: K, Genre: friendship  
_-Whys (7)_ - A controversial, and vaguely scary, peek into the mind of the clueless. Rated: K, Genre: general  
_-Wondering (69)_ - Danny gets tortured and brought to a psychologist. Rated: K, Genre: angst  
_-You're Not Being You (85) -_ A bit of the future for 'Real Life', plotless DxS. Rated: K, Genre: frienship  
_-Zim's Thermos (82)_ - A DP/Invader Zim crossover. Rated: K, Genre: humor

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**One Moment to Forever**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The violet eyes opened as they gazed up at one tiny speck in the night sky; one mote of light among millions. One that was somehow unique and special despite all the others that crowded for his space.

The spark reached the top of his arc through the air, pausing for a moment – hanging in the pure weightlessness that everyone experiences before plummeting back down to the Earth. His green eyes were closed, enjoying the feeling of nothingness, the momentary cleansing of the torrent of feelings that washed through him every day.

The bright, almost blue moon cast a silvery light down on him as he hung, poised to fall. It sparkled in his messy, starlit hair and glittered off the clean white and black of his outfit. It turned an otherwise unremarkable boy into tiny twinkling star; ordinary and small among the heroes and other flashes of light that now surrounded him, yet at the same time remote and distant and untouchable.

The world trembled at the feet of the great hero, the one who gave everything for people who cared nothing about him. The world quivered at the feel of the heart of one so brave and bold. The world shook at the sight of a star so small that dared to shine so bright.

Yet the world did not feel nearly as much as one pair of violet eyes, which stared up at the tiny star in his moment of freedom. It was in her eyes, and her eyes alone, that the star become more than just a distant and courageous hero. He became her savior; one who could take away all of her fears; one who could still feel pain and cry. She alone could see the burden that was placed upon his shoulders. She alone could help him carry it.

But even with her, the keeper of his soul, the star could not be truly free. This the champion knew deep down in his heart. Except for moments like this, the load that had been place upon him would be with him his whole life. It had been his choice – made freely and with no regrets. Every morning he woke up, renewing his vow to be the hero, choosing, yet again, to take up the burden.

The star pin-wheeled his arms and legs, fighting unconsciously for a bit more time. But the world needed him, the world needed a selfless hero, and so the world began to pull him back. Ever so slowly, almost sadly, the world reclaimed the champion from his weightless freedom. The star, once more a boy and chained to the Earth, began to fall.

The violet eyes watched the mote of light drop through the darkness that surrounded him. As he passed, the other stars seemed to brighten, the darkness dropping away for a blessed moment before being reclaimed. Then the violet eyes blinked once more, and the moment was lost in time forever.

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Written October 12, 2006


	2. Collapse

_There is a gas leak in the theater. Hundreds will die. Danny Phantom... do something..._

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**Collapse  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"DANNY!" 

The feral scream cut through the shouts and yells, it even managed to override the residual rumbling of the explosion that had destroyed the building. The crowd, which had been running in panic, slowed, turning as one to stare at the slim Gothic teenager that was staring at the slowly crumbling remains of the old theater in horror, ignoring the billowing cloud of dust, collapsing to her knees in the street. A darker teenager with a ripped red hat dropped the arm he had been clutching and stood motionless, his mouth moving as if to form words he could not speak.

Long seconds past. Bits of burnt cloth and scraps of wood drifted down out of the sky to coat the Goth's mussed black hair a dismal gray. The closer members of the crowd could see the clean trails of the tears that tracked down her dirty cheeks. A few people began to drift aimlessly – some away from the wreckage and some towards, perhaps with the vague thought that they could be of some help – but most stayed where they were, watching, fixated, the torture that crossed the girl's face before she buried her eyes in hands. Eyes drifted away from the two tormented teenagers to settle on the twisted bones of the ancient theater.

"Someone was still in there," came a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard of the breathing of hundreds of people. Quietly, the whisper spread, people staring at the place where they had all been sitting only minutes before. "The ghost-boy," someone else whispered, a wave of pain crossing the faces that blurred into the crowd. He had saved hundreds of lives, only to loose his own. He had gone back inside for someone at the last second and had never reappeared.

Silence once again fell, a deathly silence broken only by the uncontrollable sobs of the Gothic teenager and the random patter of debris as it hit the ground. Minutes past. The wail of the police sirens and fire engines raced closer. Yet still, nobody moved: a silent memorial to the ghost hero of Amity Park.

It started as a sharp intake of breath from someone deep in the crowd. It moved like a ripple through the hundreds of people gathered in the streets; a silent cry that shimmered through the air like a dense fog, rolling over everyone in the mass before descending onto the stunned red-hatted teenager. "Sam," he whispered hoarsely, staring in disbelief at the billowing smoke.

The Goth raised her gaze back to the theater. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, her mouth open in incredulity. "Danny?" she murmured. Something moved in the depths of the dust cloud, limping away from the shattered building. As the shadow moved slowly closer, the shape became more visible. A tattered and torn teenager, black and white hazmat suit dirty and hanging in rags, his dusty hair hanging limply in front of his face, drips of ectoplasmic blood staining his face and exposed skin a ghostly green. His eyes were down, concentrating on keeping his feet moving, but suddenly he looked up, almost like he heard the teenage girl's barely spoken question. Meeting her gaze, his green eyes sparkled to life and a grin of delight crossed his face. He held up an arm in triumph, his other arm curled protectively around the struggling puppy he had risked his life to save.

"Danny!" the girl shrieked, practically flying through air towards him. The ghost-boy dropped the puppy to the ground and grabbed the teen as she reached him. He spun her around a few times before surrendering to her hug.

The clapping started slowly, a few people here and there, until the entire throng of people was clapping, whistling, and yelling for the ghost-boy hero. Danny Phantom grinned into the hair of his gothic friend, not willing to tell anybody that the look in her eyes was enough for him. It didn't really matter; he could barely hear them over the sound of her heart, anyway.

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Written October 12, 2006  
Inspired by the song "Miracles Happen" by Myra  
Thank you for reading.


	3. Imprints: The Playground

_Movies aren't the only things that cannot change..._

_

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_

**Imprints**  
_A series of oneshots about the often ignored 'remnant' ghosts._

_

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_

**The Playground  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The girl raced around the playground equipment, her sparkling eyes taking in the beautiful colors and the shimmers of moonlight on the metal bits. Her swirling skirts, which dipped almost to the ground, did little to impede her way as she clambered up the ladder and whisked down the slippery slide. Tumbling in the fresh, green grass when she hit the ground, she giggled breathlessly. Then, she pushed herself to her feet, brushed a bit of dirt off of her arms, and skipped around to slide again. 

Down and down she flew, over and over, until even she, at the old age of 5, bored of the slide. Over to the swing next, her white skirts fluttering as she ran. Up and down she sailed, her hair flinging into her face. She laughed, calling for her mom, her bright eyes glistening in delight as she played late into the night. She never noticed the white-haired boy sitting in the swing next to her, a half-smile on his face as he watched her carefree play.

The boy had been coming to the playground for the past couple of years, always to watch the young girl play. He knew exactly how many times she would travel down the slide. He knew exactly how long she would be on the swings. He loved watching the joy that filled her eyes as she played. He wished he could find the same freedom in his life.

The girl, with a stricken look, suddenly slipped off the swings and began to race across the playground, screaming. Something the boy could not see was happening over by the benches. However, he did not move. He just watched, quietly. The girl tripped once on her skirts, falling to the ground, but scrambled back to her feet and continued to run, her screams cutting though the night.

Then, the girl stopped and trembled for a second. The green-eyed boy could see a small hole that had formed on the poor child's forehead, the blood that begun to trickle down into her dazzling eyes. Although he had never heard the sound, he knew that she had been shot. Before she could collapse to the ground, her body shimmered and vanished into the dark sky, leaving no trace of her ever having existed.

Except the boy, of course. He knew. He had discovered the girl three years ago; however she had been around much longer than that. The young girl had been coming to the playground once a year, playing out the last half-hour of her life, every year since 1912 – the year she and her mother had been brutally murdered.

She wasn't even a ghost; she was not able to change her movements or her fate. From the moment she appeared, chasing a long-dead squirrel across the park towards the slide, she was doomed to follow the events that had lead up to her death. Yet the boy sat, in vigil, watching the condemned child play – a silent observer of an unspeakable crime. He didn't know why he was doing it, why he came back every year.

But he did.

He loved to watch her play.

* * *

_"Imprint" Ghosts - ectoplasmic manifestations that are created due to a strong, emotional occurance (ususally death) or an action that has been repeated often enough to create an "imprint" in the area. These imprints cannot interact with people or the true environment - they merely play out the same few seconds of time every time they appear. They never deviate. Imprint ghosts encompass most of the "real life" ghost hauntings. They are also sometimes called "remnants."_

Written October 13, 2006  
It's Friday the 13th after all - we need something depressing  
Thanks for reading.


	4. Revelations

_You know... I've always wondered why Danny gets trapped into testing things and not anybody else. Think about it... it's spooky._

_

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_

**Revelations  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

"This is INSANE!" Danny muttered, kicking a soda can on his way to school. "My Dad and his stupid inventions." 

"It can't be all that bad," Sam insisted.

"Yes, it can. It's never Jazz that he gets to help him test those crazy things, it's _me_. It's never Jazz that has to risk her life for some stupid idea, it's _me_." He knew he sounded like he was five, but he didn't really care at the moment.

"So… what happened this morning to get you into a bad mood?" Tucker glanced up from his PDA.

"He fixed that brainless Ghost Gabber. Again. And whose nose does he stick it under to test it? Not Jazz's. _MINE!_" Danny screamed in frustration. Letting his hands relax and closing his eyes for a second, he murmured. "Why is it _always_ me?"

"Because it wouldn't work with Jazz," Tucker muttered.

Danny stopped dead. "What?" His eyes widened.

"I said because it wouldn't work with Jazz."

"Danny?" Sam wondered, but Danny's brain was too far away, remembering this morning's meeting…

"_Hey Danny! Check out my latest invention! The Ghost Gabber 2.0. It synthesizes a ghost's natural voice, and has a wider range." Jack stuffed the invention in front of Danny. "Try it! Say something!"_

"_Ahhh… boo?" Danny muttered._

"_I am a ghost, fear me!" The Ghost Gabber spoke with a high-pitched female's voice._

_Danny watched his father tinker with the settings for a second. "There we go, couple of wires crossed. Try it again!" The Ghost Gabber was back in front of his nose._

"_Not now, Dad, I'm eating breakfast."_

"_Not now, Dad. Fear me. I'm eating breakfast. Fear me." This time the Ghost Gabber sounded spookily like him._

_Jack's eyes lit up and he smiled happily at his invention. Then, suddenly, he looked over at Maddie and Danny sitting at the table, and sighed. "Still doesn't work," he mumbled, but Danny caught his smile before he vanished down into the basement._

Danny was silent, not moving, letting that memory wash through him. Why had his Dad acted like the Ghost Gabber was working perfectly until he had remembered that his mom and he were still in the room? Why had he smiled at his invention before heading downstairs? And why, oh why, was he always testing these things on _him_ rather than on anybody else?

"No way…" he whispered. "He couldn't… He's too clueless… He's…" Danny broke off his half-finished thoughts, turning around to stare back at FentonWorks.

It was, after all, his _mother_ that designed the more dangerous inventions. His _mother_ that was always screaming that she was out to get him. It was his _father_ that 'forgot' to charge the weapons at crucial points. It was his _father_ that, lately more than ever, bumbled his way through ghost fights by tangling the Fenton Fisher or pressing the wrong buttons, always giving him a chance to escape.

On top of it all, it was his _father_ that always made sure to shout out exactly what the latest ghost invention did the instant Danny walked through the door. Not Jazz. Not Maddie. Not Sam or Tucker. Just Danny. "No way!"

"Danny? What's wrong?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

Danny shook himself and glanced at Sam. He smiled. "Nothing."

Tucker wrinkled his forehead. "Right. You know, you'll tell us sooner or later anyway."

Danny smiled. "Yeah, but this way you'll have something to think about during Lancer's class."

"True!" Tucker grinned.

_And I'll have something to watch for when I get home,_ Danny thought to himself. _There's just no way…It's not possible… _

_

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Written October 17, 2006  
Clueless 1? You are cleared to land. Over.  
Thanks for reading.


	5. Vortex

_It's all a matter of perspective.__

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**Vortex**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Danny yelped as the swirling vortex pulled at him. It was strong – the deep purples and blues colliding and filling his head with the roaring sound that blocked out all the other noises. 

He tried to pull away, jigging left and right. No matter which way he turned, the whirlpool yanked him back, drawing him inexorably towards the center. He twisted his head, trying to yank his eyes away from the almost hypnotic effect of the twisting violets and deep navy blues.

It was worse than when he was under Freak Show's control. Here, he knew exactly what he was doing, and still he was drawn towards the swirling center. He could only watch, powerless, as eddies in the vortex trapped him, snared him, and lured him closer and closer.

Danny finally lost himself in the mesmerizing colors, giving up his half-fight. It was no use. He was spell-bound. The whirlpool could have made him do anything.

"Danny?" he heard Sam ask. "Danny?"

"What?" he whispered, not actually thinking that anyone could hear him over the roar of the vortex in which he was thoroughly ensnared.

"Um… lunch is over and we need to get to class."

"What?" Danny finally snapped out of the whirlpool's grasp, blinking as he remembered where he was. "Oh. Okay."

He sat still for a moment as Sam got up and walked away. _Note to self_, he thought, _stay away from Sam's eyes._ Then he smiled and followed her to class.

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Written October 17, 2006  
Inspired by the one and only Nonasuki-chan, melodrama lover and fellow weirdo.  
Thanks for reading.


	6. Stars in Blood

_Four words: Don't. Want. To. Know. I don't want to know where it came from, I don't want to where it's going, and I really don't want to know why I wrote it._

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**Stars in Blood**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The harsh electric whine wound down as the Fenton Thermos finished locking away its newest resident. Danny could feel Skulker slamming his body around, making the thermos quiver in his gloved hands. But he didn't care right then.

The thermos slipped out of his suddenly nerveless fingers. Almost against his will, he felt himself turning back human. It started in a place deep inside of his stomach, a cold shudder that made his insides clench for a split second. Then, suddenly, that tiny spot of frosty pain exploded like a star, rippling away from that point, the chill passing through each cell and changing it from ectoplasm to normal human cells. Danny could feel it happening, not that it really hurt. It was almost like getting your teeth drilled – uncomfortable, but not truly painful.

To the outside world, a ring of light seemed to form a few inches from his skin as the power that made him change from ghost to human passed through his skin and dissipated into the night sky. Danny braced himself for when the change swept through his mind. That was the worst part, in his opinion: his brain always seemed to _click_ and pause for a split second before restarting as a human brain. It was over in seconds; Danny Phantom, the hero, had been replaced by Danny Fenton, the teenager.

Danny gasped in pain as his human nerves fired up and started sending signals to his brain. Human pain was much, much worse than ghost pain. Danny pressed a hand to his leg, where blood was pumping out and forming a puddle of red blood under his foot. He was covered in cuts and scratches, but this gash on his leg was the worst, far worse than he had expected it would be. You really couldn't tell if a cut would bleed a lot in human mode when you were in ghost mode – ghosts lack a heart and a pulse and, thus, blood pressure, so what passes for blood in ghosts does not get pushed out of wounds – it merely seeps out of the hole is large enough.

Danny sank to the ground, his arms catching him before his collapsed. For the first time that night, he wished someone was around. Sam or Tucker would have been by his side already, pulling him up and helping him. He and Skulker had chased everybody away long ago; the fight had been dangerous and had lasted a very long time. The brawl had ended in a high-speed chase across Amity Park. Sam and Tucker wouldn't know where he was for sure. They might have even headed home by now, assuming he had forgotten about them and fallen asleep.

He blinked a few times, his eyes getting heavy. He could feel the warm blood on his skin, trickling down his arms and legs and collecting on the ground. He let out a shaky breath, forcing his eyes open and trying to push the almost overpowering feeling of pain out of his mind.

He focused on the wet blood beneath him and a small smile crossed his face.

Oh, how the stars sparkle when reflected in a pool of blood.

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Written October 22, 2006  
Inspired by my fingernail polish (blood red with sparkles).  
Thanks for reading.


	7. Whys

_Dare to jump into the mind of the clueless. It's not a fun trip._

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**Whys  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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I love figuring out why things work. Not _how_ they work – that's a job for some other people – but _why_ they work. It's fascinating. 

When you finally get the _why_, you can see all these almost magical connections firing into existence all around you like little firecrackers. You can see, quite clearly, how one thing is connected to another thing, which is connected to another thing, which is connected to another thing. You can see how moving this one thing over here will influence some other thing way over there.

My favorite part is when you see things lined up like dominoes. A small push on one small thing will start a cascade. First one thing changes, than another, than another, than some more, until the whole box of dominoes is changing and falling over each other. Until, finally, you can move a mountain – all by just pushing on one small domino.

In semi-technical terms, this is called the butterfly effect. Something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings in Central Park could effect a small breeze ever so slightly, which in turn effects a larger breeze ever so slightly, which in turn effects an even larger breeze… up and up and on and on you go until you reach the point where that small effect compiles into a large effect – like a Class 2 hurricane that roars straight over New Orleans rather than dying in the Gulf of Mexico. It also has quite a bit to do with string theory and particle resonance, but that's getting deeper into particle physics than I want to delve.

My best friend in college tried to get me interested in chess. He truly loved the game – the strict movements of the pieces across the board. He was a master at planning ahead; knowing the possible moves and working to counter them before his hapless opponent even knew the moves existed. Me, I enjoy my _why_ connections better. There isn't that rigid structure. Anything and everything can happen. You can't truly plan ahead… it makes it more interesting.

There is nothing I enjoy more than sitting down, drowning out the incessant babble of real life trying to discover the next _why_ in my life. How everything is connected to everything else. I guess it leaves others in my life figuring I am unfocused or my head is off in the clouds somewhere. It's one of the reasons I picked up the nickname "clueless" in high school. I never did pay attention to what was going on.

These _whys_ are, I suppose, what originally led me to believe in ghosts and "discover" a ghost zone. There were numerous things in life that I could not figure out – the whys did not add up. _Something_ was missing in the cosmic jigsaw puzzle that I was trying to put together. A ghost zone (and ghosts) would explain it; they would fill in the missing pieces. I even managed to create a basic framework for how ghosts and a ghost zone would exist without any hard evidence. All based on the puzzle pieces I had and the "spaces" where the missing pieces would go.

I am pleased to say that most of my original ideas are correct. I managed to confirm some of them when we got the ghost portal up and running. I was, I guess, rather disappointed to learn that one of my original assumptions seems to be incorrect. One of the missing puzzle pieces showed that ghosts were arranged along a spectrum like humans. There were your classic evil poltergeists, of course, but they would be balanced by non-evil spirits, and there would be a slaughtering of ghosts arranged between the two ends. My best friend, and the love of my life, has managed to convince me that there is no spectrum. Ghosts cannot form, and stay formed, on the non-evil end of the spectrum.

However – I will never tell her that secretly I doubt her convictions. The puzzle pieces still add up to there being a spectrum. Add in that young ghost kid that hangs around and the evidence beings to pile up in my favor. So I continue to invent technology just in case we ever meet with a ghost that doesn't try to blast and doom us into a million pieces. If only I could get them to work…

Speaking of the ghost kid, that particular gob of ectoplasm is a _why_ that I cannot figure out. I have spent days contemplating the missing puzzle pieces. But it is like trying to see the picture of the sun when all you can see is star-like pinpricks in the night. There just are not enough pieces – the missing space is too big. I can see the hurricane, but not the butterfly. I can watch the mountain move, but cannot trace it back to the fallen domino that started it all. It drives me nuts – there has never been a _why_ I could not understand when I put my mind to it.

All this time I have spent thinking about the _why_ connections is for a reason. I have been searching for something. It was only recently that I figured out what I was searching for. The center ring. The lock-pin. The keystone. For the past few years I have been putting together everything I know, everything I have ever seen as having a connection to something else, and pushing towards an answer to the biggest question of all time.

I know the ghost kid has the answer. If I can figure out the _why_ to him, I know I can figure out the answer to my questions. That is one reason why I am so determined to catch the ghost kid. He's got my answers. He's got my _why_. Until I get it, I do not have the whole puzzle. I can only guess as to the picture that it forms.

It has taken all of my life, but all my theories and evidence adds up to one thing at this point. The center of the universe. The puzzle piece that makes all the others fall into place. The initial domino than moves the mountain. The butterfly that flaps its wings to change the world. The one thing that _everything_ anywhere taps into; the one thing that every sparkling, magical _why _connection is tied back to.

Fudge.

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Written November 3, 2006  
Veni, Vidi, Vici  
Thanks for reading.


	8. Sugar Rush

_Here's to everybody who had run out of Halloween candy already. _

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**Sugar Rush  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Danny Phantom was flying home after a battle with the great Skulker, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter. He was beat-up and bruised, his flight path unsteady. On the positive side, Skulker was locked safely away in the Fenton Thermos sitting on his back. On the negative side, Danny was very sick. He should have stopped binging on the Halloween candy with Tucker long before he actually did. He wouldn't have fared nearly as bad against Skulker if he would have been able to concentrate. At least he was almost home. 

"I am the headache that stalks through the dark."

Danny jerked up, his breath fogging in the air before him. He groaned, then wrinkled his nose. A strong, sugary smell was permeating the air.

"I am the rolling stomachache that keeps you up at night."

He twisted his head around, looking for the ghost that was attempting to torture him. A multi-colored smoke swirled into existence about ten feet in front of him.

"I am the energy that makes you run even when you are tired."

Danny sighed, keeping his eyes on the rainbow smoke, reaching into his backpack for his Thermos. He did not want to fight another ghost. He wanted to go to bed. And never see anything sugar-related again. Ever. Suddenly, the smoke cleared, leaving behind the ghost.

"BEWARE! For it is I, Sugar Rush! The fantastic Master of the Days Right After Halloween! Beware my sugary wrath as I bury you in high-fructose, cellophane-wrapped, artificially-flavored goodness." The ghost attempted an evil chuckle and failed miserably.

Danny slapped his forehead. "I can't believe it. Somebody with a longer introduction than Technus. That has got to earn him some kind of reward."

While Sugar Rush was attempting to perfect his evil chuckle, Danny studied him, trying to decide if this particular ghost was actually a threat. The ghost appeared to be about eight. His bright red hair was standing up in messy spikes, bits of gum and other candies trapped in the course hairs. Suckers and other sticky concoctions were glued to his dirty clothes (a green jersey and jeans), and his fingers were multi-colored and undoubtedly sticky from the various sweets he had been holding. The multi-coloring continued around his manic grin, his teeth, tongue, and lips stained a unique color of blue. The ghost could not stop twitching – he was almost shaking with his sugar-coated energy.

"Know something I learned today, Sugar Rush?" Danny asked.

"What?" For the first time, Sugar Rush focused on Danny. He had the blood-shot eyes of someone who had stayed up far too long.

"It's hard to defend yourself when you are on a sugar high."

With that, Danny threw an ecto-blast at the young ghost. Sugar Rush tumbled along the sidewalk for a few feet, partially-eaten candy getting thrown off of him and landing all around them. Danny unscrewed the cap of the Fenton Thermos and trained the blue vortex on the downed ghost. Within seconds, the active kid was gone.

Danny dropped to the ground, stopping for a moment to stare at a piece of candy lying on the ground by his feet. His stomach rolled at the thought of eating it.

He closed his eyes. "That's it. I'm swearing off of candy."

Danny walked the rest of the way home.

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Written November 3, 2006  
Inspired by the thirty-odd kids that are closest to my heart.  
Thanks for reading.


	9. The Fall

_Sometimes you just need to kill somebody._

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**The Fall  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Maddie crouched before her prone husband, staring up at the fighting ghosts in horror. She and Jack had arrived just a short while ago – and both of them had been disarmed in minutes. They hadn't even been much of a challenge. Jack had taken a ferocious blast and was now lying unconscious on the ground.

As Maddie watched, the vampire-like ghost sneered at the Ghost Boy, yelling about him being too weak to save anybody. The Ghost Boy simply screamed back something to do with a cat before rushing in and hitting the vampire-ghost with a punch to the face. Maddie tore her eyes off the battle, her gaze searching for something… anything… that she could use to make sure Jack was safe.

There! She picked up the only weapon she had left. The Fenton Depossessor. It was a big, unwieldy thing. She glanced back at Jack, then turned her gaze back to the vampire-ghost. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. The Fenton Depossessor was really only useful on humans that had been overshadowed… she wasn't sure what it would do to a normal ghost. But it was better than nothing.

Carefully, she aimed at the ghost. The crosshairs went straight between his shoulder blades, her fingers steady on the trigger. "Nobody messes with my family," she hissed, her finger clenching, the gun whining softly and shooting out a ray of pure blue light.

Incredibly, the vampire-ghost ducked. The shot, which sailed mere inches over his head, caught the Ghost Boy (who had been floating behind the other ghost) completely unaware. Maddie gasped as the light slammed into the Ghost Boy. She took a step forwards, her eyes wide. She hadn't meant to hit him.

The Ghost Boy's form seemed to waver, then he _flickered_. Maddie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His hair flashed from white to black, then back. His clothes also seemed to switch. Behind the Ghost Boy, a form was taking shape, almost like another ghost was getting kicked out of the Ghost Boy. _But that's impossible_…

It took less than a breath, but to Maddie it seemed like an eternity. Finally, the form had solidified behind the… Maddie's mind stopped dead. The Ghost Boy had been replaced by her own son. The form _behind_ him was the Ghost Boy. Together, Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom hung motionless in the air for a heartbeat, and then Danny Fenton, being human, began to fall.

"No!" Maddie screamed, moving forwards, weapon dropping forgotten to the ground. At the same time, the Ghost Boy screamed, and dove towards her son. Maddie stared at the scene in horror. Her son, reaching towards the ghost. The ghost, reaching towards her son. His only savior; his only chance.

However, Maddie knew something the Dannys did not. The Fenton Depossessor leaves a positive charge in the human it hits, a negative charge in the ghost that got kicked out. The second the Ghost Boy touches her son, he'll be blown into a million pieces.

Time slowed down. The hands inched closer. Danny's terrified blue eyes stared up into the green eyes of the Ghost Boy. Still dozens of feet above the ground, the two clasped hands.

The silent explosion was so bright that Maddie was forced to close her eyes. She did not see her son hit the ground a few feet from her – but she heard it and felt it. She felt the splatters of warm, red liquid hit her face. She heard the muffled thud. Somewhere, deep down inside of her in a place only a parent knows exists, she felt her son die.

She wasn't even aware of her screams.

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Written November 3, 2006  
Simply because I needed to.  
Thanks for reading.


	10. The Pendulum

_It's official. I spend too much time staring at clocks._

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**The Pendulum**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The clock pendulum swung back and forth, left and right, slowly ticking off measured increments of time until the end of the universe. 

But it was not time that I was contemplating as I watched the pendulum swing. It was a young ghost that had come under my protection. A young man who swung just as the pendulum did.

_Tick_. Over to the left, the child was a ghost, filled with ghostly powers and obsessions.

_Tock_. Swing back over to the right, the child became human, tempering his ghost persona with human emotions and morals.

_Tick_. Back to ghost.

_Tock_. Human.

_Tick_. Ghost.

_Tock_. Human.

But I know something about pendulums that many people to do think about. The pendulum swings, yes, but it does not swing forever. Slowly, ever so slowly, with each pass, the pendulum swings a little less far to the left and right. The pendulum slows.

_Tick_. Ghost.

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – for my young halfa, his pendulum is doing the same thing. Each _tick_ turns him into a ghost, true. But as the pendulum slows, he becomes a little less ghost. Each t_ock_ back to human. But a little less human than before.

_Tock_. Human.

What will become of the young man when the pendulum finally comes to a rest? He will not be a ghost – that is only possible on the left swing. He will not be a human – that is only possible on the right. He will not be a halfa that can switch between two forms like Plasmius – that would require the pendulum to swing. He will be something _else_. Something in between – his two forms merged into one. He will be the first true _hybrid_.

_Tick_. A little less ghost.

I fear for when this happens. I have been working, quietly, to tweak the young man's future into something pleasant. But I cannot change the inevitable. His pendulum coming to a standstill is fate. There is not stopping it, there is no slowing it.

_Tock_. A little less human.

What I fear most is the power this young man will have. As the pendulum slows, he gains in power. Each swing of the pendulum brings him a bit closer to his true form, to what he is destined to be. Based on how fast he is gaining power compared to how much the swinging has slowed, he will be powerful beyond belief. Long before his pendulum stops, he will be the most powerful ghost in the ghost zone. Much more powerful than I.

_Tick_. A little less ghost.

Will he be a merciless ruler of both the ghost zone and the human world? I can imagine it coming.

_Tock_. A little less human.

Will he be a benevolent savior of the worlds? I can imagine that coming as well.

_Tick_. A little less ghost.

He will become so powerful that even I cannot tell his future. His future blurs and vanishes in my mirror when he becomes more powerful than me. I do not know if he will be pitiless or compassionate. All I have is conjecture. All I can do is guess.

_Tock_. A little less human.

This young man has more futures than anybody I have ever met. Good and evil reside in his heart. A simple twist of destiny is all it takes to set him on the path towards either one.

_Tick_. A little less ghost.

All I can do is sit back and cross my fingers. I've never had to do that before. I do not like not knowing the outcome.

_Tock_. A little less human.

All I can do is hope for the best. I reach out and touch the pendulum with my fingers, arresting its timeless movements for but a moment.

_Stops_. What will he become?

For once, I do not know.

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Written November 4, 2006  
I was too bored and the clock was too interesting.  
Thanks for reading.


	11. Two Roads

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by._

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**Two Roads**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Danny kicked a rock down the old path, his breath fogging in the cool morning air. He loved the fall: all the leaves covering the ground to crunch under his feet, and the crispness of the air in the mornings. This particular morning, Danny found himself wandering down a path surrounded by trees that were decked out in their fall best. Bright, happy yellows danced in the slight breeze all around him, the angry red leaves being pushed away from this section of the trail. 

Sticking his hand into his coat pocket, Danny yanked out the poem he was supposed to be memorizing for Monday. Lancer had given him a choice of poetry, and this poem wasn't too bad. "The Road Not Taken," by Robert Frost. Danny, giving his rock one final kick and sending it as far off into the trees as possible, settled down to memorize.

A few minutes later, he had to pause for a moment. Straight before him was the old maple tree. It was huge: easily ten feet around. Its massive limbs stretched far into the sky and around him. It wasn't the tree that had made him pause – it was the fact that the path split in two at this point. Danny stood in the shade of the quivering leaves and read the sign post that had been pounded into the ground before the tree. To the left lay the sports area – open fields perfect for soccer and baseball. To the right lay the quiet woods that held occasional benches for resting weary feet.

He sighed softly. He really didn't care which one he took. Both were probably empty at this time of the day and both places had their own good points. Stuffing the poem back into his pocket and rubbing his fingers to get them to warm up, Danny contemplated the situation. "Really, it doesn't matter," Danny muttered to himself, slightly annoyed that he couldn't choose with to take.

He stared down the path towards the sports area, tracing the cracked tar path with his eyes until it vanished around a bend and was lost in the bushes. Then he twisted his head to gaze down the path towards the woods. This path had lots more grassy shoots sticking up through the black trail. It looked like people didn't walk down that path as often, however both paths probably got the same amount of traffic. And to top it all off, on both trails the leaves looked uncrunched and not walked on. He was the first to come this way today.

Danny kicked a pile of leaves, his mind churning. Suddenly, he chuckled and grabbed his poem out of his pocket. Reading it again, Danny grinned. He had been living out the poem he had been set to memorize. Danny stared down at the last stanza of the poem, hoping it would help him to decide. "Two roads diverged in a wood," Danny read, then his blue eyes came up to survey the roads one last time as he recited the rest from memory, "and I… I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

He looked to the left, and to the right. "Which is the road less traveled by?" he whispered to himself. A squirrel chittered from up in the huge maple tree, drawing his attention, once again, to the tree that stood in front of him. Then, Danny laughed. "The road less traveled by indeed," he informed the squirrel, his eyes dancing in delight at his solution. Tapping into his ghost powers to turn himself intangible, Danny walked straight through the old maple tree and continued on his way.

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Written November 9, 2006  
Inspired by... well... duh.  
Thanks for reading.


	12. Ghost Fruit

_Even ghosts need fairy tales…_

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**Ghost Fruit  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"Listen up ghost-child, for I will only tell this story once. 8,732 years, 11 months, and 22 days ago, a man died. His name and the circumstances of his death are unimportant. The only thing that needs to be mentioned about his dull and average life is the fact that he was a farmer. He was nearly unparalleled in his time for growing wondrous fruit. 

"After he died, he became a ghost. His human passion for fruit trees turned into a ghost's obsession, and he spent many decades attempting to grow fruit trees in the ghost zone. Let's just say he failed rather miserably. Apparently, real trees don't grow well without soil, water, and light, and the pathetic ghost would not settle for ghost trees like the ones that grow on my island.

"Anyway – in his despair, the farmer left his dead island to search for a way to make human world trees grow in the ghost zone. He asked every ghost he could find for the solution, but he was just laughed away. I mean, why would you want to grow _fruit_ trees in a _ghost _zone? It's not like we can eat them. The ghost was insane…

"Yes, yes. Don't get off track. Finally, after years of fruitless searching… like the pun, whelp?... he came across an old ghost that gave him a solution; a way to grow a human tree in the ghost zone. But only one tree and the solution had dire consequences.

"The farmer agreed to the plan. He snuck out of the ghost zone and found his own grave, where he stole what remained of his body. Fleeing back to his island, the ghost reburied his body, and then planted a single seed in the ground above it.

"Exactly what happened after that is a mystery, as every ghost with even a bit of sense stayed away from the obviously insane farmer. The story goes that the ghost stayed with the seed for years, bathing the seed in ectoplasm every day. Until, one day, the seed started to grow.

"It seemed impossible – a human tree growing in the ghost zone. But yet, slowly and surely, the tree grew taller and taller. After a few decades, the tree was nearly twenty feet tall and its bright green leaves stretched in every direction. It truly was a beautiful sight. Almost all of the ghosts in the ghost zone went to pay it a visit, and the ghost farmer was showered with compliments.

"However, the ghost was still unhappy. He didn't want a tree. He wanted a _fruit_ tree. Talk about never being satisfied with doing the impossible. After years of waiting, the ghost finally decided that it needed to go through with the rest of the plan that the old ghost had told him. In order for the tree to grow fruit, it needed more than just his remains. It needed his very spirit.

"So, on the fiftieth anniversary of his death, the pathetic ghost actually sold his very soul to a tree. For what? Fruit? Bah! But it worked. The ghost became the tree's slave, and in return the tree would bear fruit once a year. And not just any fruit, ghost-child, but ghost fruit. From then on, the tree has looked lifeless – except for on the exact day of the ghost's death. On that day, and just for that one day, all the leaves sprout and the ghost fruit come into existence.

"Don't reticule me, whelp! There is a _point_ to this story. Just listen. Ghosts cannot eat real food, that is true, but this is not real food. This is a ghost fruit. They are incredibly delicious, exceedingly rare, and, without a doubt, worth bending a few rules to obtain.

"Yes. I am proposing a deal. The tree only bears thirteen fruit each year, and nearly every ghost in the ghost zone will be on the island trying to get one. Together, we are powerful enough to retrieve one when it blooms next week. We'll split it fifty-fifty.

"Why should you help me? For the fruit, child, and the joy of the hunt, what else could you want?

"A truce! For two months! You drive a hard bargain, whelp, but I accept your terms.

"Finally. Together you and I – Skulker! The Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter! – will be victorious."

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Written November 10, 2006  
Behold the power of pomegranates and monologues.  
Thanks for reading.


	13. Diabolical

_Alright. I seriously apologize for this one. Dunno where it came from._

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**Diabolical**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The ghost snickered from his hiding spot, watching the drama unfold. Mentally, he patted his back. The latest plan had been an absolutely wonderful: plant Undergrowth in Amity Park. Of course, the hybrid had won, but he had expected that. And the child had started to learn about his freezing powers as well. An interesting new development.

The ghost phased out the building, tearing a hole back to the ghost zone. As he floated towards his lair, the ghost contemplated his next step in his grand plan. He gloated silently; diving low to avoid some of the ghost zone's less reputable. He truly was a genius. Not that anybody would ever suspect him of it. He worked behind the scenes, tweaking little things here and there. Never was _he_ part of the grand plan. Never would anybody realize how powerful he was… until it was too late. That was his true genius.

He thought back to the first thing he had done: tweaking the controls on the Fenton's ghost portal. He had to admit that he hadn't done it with the expectation of creating the young hybrid – that had been a pure accident – but he did get some pleasure in knowing that he was partially responsible for the hybrid's creation.

From there, however, the ghost had meddled more and more, but kept it discrete. A dropped hint to the Lunch Lady about a change in the menu. "Losing" a map of the way to the Fenton Portal in Technus's lair. Setting that ghost dog loose in Amity Park. Allowing Skulker to capture him. Letting that annoying Spectra "force" him to tell her where those ghost bugs were hidden. Even shipping that reality gauntlet to the Guys In White. On and on his list of meddlings grew, and the ghost's smile grew with each one.

Zipping into his lair and carefully shutting the door, the ghost laughed slightly. Even with that tiresome halfa Plasmius sticking his nose into everything, the ghost's plans usually went off without a hitch. Granted, the time that Pariah Dark had gotten out had been frightening, and the disaster with the reality gauntlet had been terrifyingly unpredictable, but _usually_ the plans went off okay.

He started to grab some items off of his workstation. The Fentons were brilliant when it came to ghost technology, and he had quite a few of their inventions to work with. His latest plan would require a few of them, and it was quite risky…

He did need to be a bit more careful from now on, or else the young hybrid would begin to suspect something. The ghost liked to be on the front lines as his plans were set in motion, watching the ensuing chaos, and often the child caught him hanging around. Add that in with the fact that he couldn't stand to just lay around in the ghost zone as his plans were unfolding – thus he was in the human world much more often than a ghost of his assumed power level should be – and somebody would begin to think… But no, they never had and probably never would.

The ghost rolled his eyes. Seriously, people were dangerously dense these days. Just as nobody thought to suspect the pathetic Danny Fenton of being the heroic Phantom, nobody would ever even think of suspecting _him_ of being behind nearly everything ghost-related that had happened in Amity Park over the past year.

But he couldn't afford to be sloppy, even with the relative stupidity of the populace of Amity Park and the ghost zone. He needed to keep up that horrible alter-ego that he used when dealing with other people. The sad "personality" he had created as a cover-up for his true intentions was dismal at best, but it worked. How much longer were they going to fall for his stupid and obsessed act? He wasn't even a good actor – when he got cornered, he resorted to the only idiotic thing that popped into his head. Anybody with half a brain would know that he was hiding something.

The ghost flew back out the door, tore a hole into the human world, and started getting ready to put his next plan to dominate the world in to motion. Carefully and behind the scenes. As always.

He snorted as one last thought crossed his mind before he pushed the subject out of his head. Come on. A box ghost? Who haunts _boxes_, anyway? That's just stupid.

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Written November 10, 2006.  
It's better out of my head than in it, I guess.  
Thanks for reading.


	14. Just a Chess Game

_It's just a game of chess, after all... _

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**Just a Chess Game  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"Have I ever told you how completely unfair this is?" 

"A few times, Danny." Clockwork picked up his white knight and moved it in an L-shape, taking the black pawn that had been sitting there.

Danny sighed, staring down at the board. After a minute, he grabbed his bishop and slid it a few spaces in a diagonal fashion. "You're the master of _time_," he grumbled, watching Clockwork move a seemingly random piece on the other end of the board, "you know what's going to happen."

"As do you."

"Right…" Danny studied the board, knowing that Clockwork was moving in for kill, but unable to see the trap. Moving his bishop yet again, Danny stole one of Clockwork's rooks. "Like I can see the future."

"You can." Danny glanced up to see Clockwork shift into his older persona. "You know very well that after you took my rook," Clockwork pointed to the black bishop Danny had just moved, "I would be able to take your bishop," he moved his finger over to his knight, "you would retaliate by stealing my knight with your rook, which would put my king into check," Clockwork's finger drifted to point at Danny's black castle piece, "I would then be required to take out your rook with the only piece available, my queen…" Clockwork drifted off, watching Danny's eyes dart over the board.

"And then…" Danny's eyes widened. "Then I could take out your queen with _my_ knight; you'd then probably move your rook to keep it from being stolen… I could move my other bishop up with your rook out of the way…" His eyes came up, a flicker of a smile growing in his green eyes. "And checkmate."

"Precisely." Clockwork shifted into his youngest form, and sent the hybrid a grin. "However, since I know that's what you're planning – as we can both "see" into the future with this game – I'd rather not start down that path." Clockwork disregarded his knight and moved his far left pawn forwards a space. He raised an eyebrow at the disgruntled young man. "And now all of the probable futures have changed."

Danny propped up his chin with a hand and went back to staring at the board in frustration. "That's super annoying."

"Indeed," he chuckled.

"I still say this is unfair," Danny muttered, moving his knight into position to steal Clockwork's queen.

"Danny," Clockwork sighed, "you have to understand that my ability to see into the future is not much different from your growing ability to see the moves in chess before they happen. Real people just have different rules that they follow, and the futures that I can see as probabilities are constantly shifting as people make decisions. It's not like I _know_ for certain what move you are going to make next, it's that I can make a very good _guess_, much like you can."

Danny blinked a few times, "I meant…"

"You think it's annoying when your plan for a chess move falls apart? Think of how I feel when there is this beautiful future floating ahead, and one person I never thought of as being someone who could make a difference does something I failed to predict and the whole thing falls apart."

"Clockwork…"

"It's insane," Clockwork growled, finally moving his rook over to steal Danny's threatening knight. "In the real world the 'rules' usually apply, but sometimes don't. It's like having a chess game where the bishops _usually_ need to travel at a diagonal, but every so often, at random, they can move like knights do."

Danny was silent for a moment, watching the fuming ghost. "Are you done?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"I was _going_ to say that it was unfair since you're much older than me, you've been playing this game for centuries, and I don't stand a chance of winning." Danny smiled, moving his queen for the first time in the game, taking out the white rook Clockwork had just moved. "However… checkmate."

Clockwork sat back in his chair. "Nicely done, Danny."

Suddenly, a clock on the wall started to chime. Danny glanced at it, his eyes widening. "It's seven o'clock," he whispered.

"Yes, it is."

"Crud!" Danny pushed his chair away from the table, flying quickly towards the door back to the ghost zone, "I've got to go! I'm going to be late for that big supper Mom has planned, which means I'm not going to get any homework done before some ghost attacks, which means I'm going to get detention from Lancer tomorrow for not having my homework finished _again_, which means Sam's going to be mad at me for missing that new movie after school _again..._ How can I get her into a good mood before I get detention…" Danny's angry rant drifted into silence as he flew out of earshot.

Clockwork chuckled, picking up the chess set. "And he thinks that I'm the only ghost that can see into the future."

* * *

Written November 11, 2006  
I hope to never see a chess board again.  
Thanks for reading.


	15. Fear Me

_I shouldn't (gasp) post this (snicker). It's just going to (giggle) confirm your doubts about my sanity… (falls out of chair in laugher and can't finish sentence)

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**Fear Me.  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Fear me!"

Somehow, that never comes out the way I want it to, evidenced by the apparent lack of expression on the faces around me. It should be more evil, more conniving. I am, as a matter of fact, planning to take over the world… so you'd think my laughter, followed by my patented and highly original phrase, would strike more fear into the hearts of the humans.

Not so. The only person who ever seems to care is that ghost boy. He's the only person I've ever gotten through to. Every time he sees me, his eyes widen in terror and he basically runs away. Not that he hasn't attempted to destroy me numerous times, but when there are others around, he just runs away.

I often enjoy watching the ghost boy run away. There are no others that can invoke that pure terror in his eyes. Not even his evil future counterpart or Pariah Dark. That child stands up to them, staring them down, brave and unyielding. However, he fears me to such a degree that he runs whenever he sees me. And he doesn't even comprehend the extent of my evil plans. It is a confidence booster if nothing else.

Perhaps it's my small stature that makes people underestimate me. Yes, I agree that I am not all that tall, but size should not matter, right? What matters is hidden within.

I have plenty hidden within. Not only do I have plans to take over the world, I also have the growing ability to do so. I practice daily – not like some of those other ghosts. I need to get more powerful, and I know it. Just yesterday I managed to control forty-one devices simultaneously. I'm rather proud of that fact.

Forty-one is not enough to take over Amity Park, much less the world. You have no idea how much I realize that. I need thousands at my command, maybe more. It's possible. I just need to be patient and practice. If the ghost boy stays away from me and doesn't destroy me in the meantime, I will be able to take over the world. Someday.

Just so you realize, it's not like I've been practicing for decades and have finally managed to control that many devices. I've only been aware of my abilities for a few months. Up until a week ago, I couldn't control more than a dozen. My power is growing by leaps and bounds. Especially now. Since the 'upgrade.'

This all started when that orange… thing… dropped me into a tub of ectoplasm. That's when I became aware of the world. That's when I started to plan for my world domination. Even then, I was warning everybody I saw to ultimately fear me. It wasn't until that oaf Technus tried to take over the ghost boy's home that I learned of the power that was inside of me. Ever since, I have been striving to perfect it. To surpass that idiot that showed me the way.

I will succeed where others have failed. The world will be mine.

For I am the Ghost Gabber, 2.0.

Fear me.

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Written November 15, 2006  
(snicker) (giggle) (still can't talk...)  
Thanks for reading.


	16. Travel Service

_This is what you get for asking me a silly question... a silly oneshot of an answer. (eye roll) Hope it helps. (the original question is at the end)_

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**Travel Service**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Okay. Don't tell Sam and Tucker, but I just had the world's most _marvelous_ idea. 

The whole idea stems off of something Tucker noticed a few weeks ago during a survey of the ghost zone. We can get to Vlad's portal in just about an hour in the ghost zone, but it takes almost a day in the real world. We also found this other portal, much closer to the Fenton portal than Vlad's, which gets you all the way to Tennessee. And another, just a bit beyond Technus's lair, that drops you off in downtown London. I'm willing to admit I didn't think much about it. I mean, it's the ghost zone. It's supposed to be creepy, weird, and illogical.

It kept Tucker up all night however. He just couldn't figure it out. "Space is space," he kept saying, trying to get us to understand. Apparently, Tucker figured that there was some correlation between the distances in the human world and the distances in the ghost zone. Like how many kilometers to a mile or how many apples equal a banana or something. Something that was constant. He finally came up with this really convoluted theory about "scrunched space" and the holes left by worms. Yeah, so I wasn't listening when he explained it, but it let him sleep at night. Unbeknownst to both Tucker _and_ Sam, I had already figured it out. It was really simple; at least to me.

Maybe it's because I'm part ghost. I have a knee up on the two of them as to how the ghost zone works. I know that ghosts feed on feelings (which is why they are always trying to scare humans) and that the ghost zone is nothing more than a whole world created out of – and filled with – solid, manifested feelings (in the form of ectoplasm). So, it makes complete sense to me that the ghost zone relates to the human world in terms of _feelings_… not in terms of miles and apples.

Let's say there's a portal in the human world in an area where there is a lot of anger and hatred. Traveling through the portal will get you into an area in the ghost zone that is especially seeped in that particular "taste" of anger and hatred. Makes sense, right? Well, then you travel a few feet, find a new portal – one that is still seeped in that particular flavor of feelings – and head back to the human world. Suddenly, you are a thousand miles from home. But, you are in an area of the world that _feels_ the same as the one you just left. The feelings given off by the local humans are the same. It works the other way too. You go through a portal in your backyard (which is friendly and happy), travel for days in the ghost zone, exit a portal that is found in an area of anger and depression, and find yourself in the kitchen of your angry, depressed neighbor. See? Feelings.

I figure that it takes a little over forty minutes to get to the portal that leads to downtown London and about an hour-and-a-half to get to De Wong's portal (he's a Chinese dragon ghost). Do you how much money I could make as a travel service? A dozen Specter Speeders, a couple flights a day… I could get people from Amity Park to London or China in less time than it takes some people to get to work! I could probably charge people lots more than the airlines too and people would still pay it. And my overhead would be lower too since I wouldn't need lots less fuel. I could be a millionaire in just a few years.

If only my morals weren't coming in to play. The problem is that I figure that the ghost zone is the ghost's home. I would hate to have hundreds of people walking though my home uninvited every day. To make matters worse, I force the ghosts to stay in the ghost zone. It would be positively evil to make ghosts stay there… and then come and invade it. I wouldn't blame them for hating me at that point.

That's the main reason why I can't tell Tucker about what I know. He'd try and talk me in to my idea, whatever I had originally thought. He'd probably succeed too. He knows me too well.

On the other hand, I can't tell Sam because she'd agree with me. Equality for ghosts. Freedom for all. That kind of stuff. And that won't work because…

You see… here's where my most marvelous idea comes in. It's the sweetest apple in the basket. I don't feel right about traversing in the ghost's home _uninvited_. See the key word? Let's just say my plan for Phantom Ghostways contains some "unusual" pilots and attendants. People get paid to work at home, right? Why should that be any different for ghosts?

The first ever ghost-human business deal. Well, the first deal outside of whatever corruption Plasmius does. It sounds like a good plan to me. Now I just need to talk the ghosts into it…

* * *

Written November 17, 2006  
"How come Danny, Sam, and Tucker can get clear across the country to Vlad's without being missed by their parents?"  
Thanks for reading.


	17. Hunter

_This is a part of a larger story arc about psychologists and hunters that I probably will never finish... but maybe... someday... I'm just posting this 'cause otherwise it'll NEVER get posted... and I like it._

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**Hunter**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Maddie grinned at him as he tightened the last screw on the invention. He glanced up at her, a smile on his face. "At last," he said dramatically, brandishing the device, "we have finished!" He flipped the on switch, and then pushed the trigger. When nothing happened, Danny blinked down in confusion at the Fenton Slammer. 

"It still needs batteries." Maddie laughed softly.

Danny shook his head and set down the invention. Maddie walked over to the cabinet and ruffled through the drawer, searching for the appropriate-sized battery. _He's just like his father sometimes – forgetting something as simple as a power source. _She furrowed her forehead as she pushed the various batteries around. "Danny? Could you go over to the box over there and see if there is a C/27 battery in there?" She gestured over towards the opposite wall.

"Sure." He wandered over, grabbing the box full of spare pieces. On his way back to the table to search through the box, he stopped and gasped. Maddie glanced over at him. Danny was shivering, his breath fogging in the air. He dropped the box onto the ground with a clatter and scanned the room, unconsciously shifting into a fighting crouch.

Maddie stood up, confused. "Danny?" _What's going on?_

A chill swept through the room, making Maddie shiver and tense. As the temperature dropped, she picked the Fenton Bazooka up off the counter-top. "Danny," she said softly, "there's a ghost."

"Duh," Danny whispered from his cautious crouch on the other side of the room.

The lights flickered, the shadows in the corners of the room growing deeper and darker by the second. Maddie blew out a breath, her lungful of air making a vague mist in the air before her face. Suddenly, a coldness invaded her body that had nothing to do with the temperature. It was the cold feeling that accompanies evil and uncompromising maliciousness. It caused all of the hairs on her arms and on the back of her neck to stand up. Maddie took an unconscious step backwards before catching herself.

A bit of darkness separated from the shadows in the corner near the ghost zone. It shimmered darkly for a moment before two deep, pulsing, red eyes opened and glowed within the depths of the gloom. A wicked chuckling filled the room as the specter floated out into the room.

"Whelp," the ghost hissed. "You are mine this time. There is no escape!"

Maddie blinked, bringing the Fenton Bazooka up and aiming it at the strange robotic ghost hovering closer to her child. _Danny… _"Back from whence you came, Spook!" Maddie yelled.

The ghost twisted his head sharply. It brought up an arm, pointing casually in her direction. A glowing, bluish net blasted out of a slot on its arm and spun through the air. Maddie yelped in surprise the net caught her up and slammed her into the wall, the bazooka clattering to the ground yards away.

"Mom!" Danny called, taking a step towards her. He glanced up at the ghost and snarled. "Skulker, leave her out of this."

The ghost laughed. "You are the only creature worth hunting, child."

Maddie struggled against the glowing net. "Let me out!" she fumed. "Danny – run!" She twisted her arms around, trying to reach for her belt.

"Yes, whelp. Run."

Danny was watching the specter closely, glancing ever-so-often over at her. He seemed to be thinking hard. Biting his lip, Danny shot a look over his shoulder at the stairs. Then he crouched down low to the ground, his hand dropping casually into the box of spilled invention parts. "Why would I run, Skulker?" An almost feral smile suddenly broke across his face. "Who would run from the 'Ghost Zone's _Worst_ Hunter,'" he taunted.

The ghost narrowed its robotic eyes. "Your pelt _will_ hang on my wall tonight for that."

"Right…" her son drawled, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Two words: As. If."

"Danny," Maddie whispered, her hand finally finding the pocket of her belt that held a small penknife. She began to slice angrily at the ropes. "When I get out of this net, that ghost is so toast," she ranted quietly, the knots of the net parting easily under her sharp knife.

"Perish, ghost child," the ghost hissed. A whirring noise accompanied the appearance of a strange contraption on the ghost's back. Four missiles appeared on the racks, priming themselves for launch.

Danny swore softly, his muscles tensing. Maddie could only watch in growing horror as the missiles were fired in her son's direction. "Danny!" she yelled. A vision of Danny lying broken in a puddle of blood filled her brain.

Danny, however, was moving. He pushed himself off of the ground in a powerful leap, his body arching over the first missile. He landed on all fours and threw himself into a back-flip. A second missile detonated against the floor where he had just been crouched. He settled onto his feet before sprinting into the center of the room – towards the ghost. A third missile breezed just above him as he flung himself into forward roll that suddenly turned into an upwards bound. He seemed to hover in the air for a split-second longer than he should have, then landed lightly on the balls of his feet, perfectly balanced in the dead center of the table. He instantly dropped down into a low squat, the fourth missile ruffling his raven hair as it passed over him. His hand came down to rest on the still-unfinished invention they had been working on.

Maddie's mouth was hanging slightly open. _Danny?_ For a second, Maddie stopped what she was doing to stare at her son. Then she blinked away her surprise and resumed slicing at the net. She almost had a hole big enough for her to fit through. _I need to help him._

Danny opened his mouth to say something as he stood up, but the ghost beat him to it. "Good, child. But can you do it again?" The robotic ghoul launched four more rockets in her son's direction.

After a brief hesitation, Danny took a big step backwards. The table tipped over, the teenager sliding down the sharp incline to crouch behind it. All four missiles slammed into the metal of the table-top, Danny wincing with each impact.

"Hey Skulker," Danny said. He stood up from behind his table fortress, the Fenton Slammer clenched in one hand, a small blue object loosely held in the other. Maddie could hear the click as Danny jammed in the battery he had picked up into place. "Guess what?"

He brought up the invention to point it at the ghost. Flicking a switch with his finger, the device began to whine slightly. "I win." Danny carefully lined up his shot, then pressed the trigger. A sharp green blast of light burst out of the muzzle of the gun-like object. The ray of light slashed through the chilled, darkened air and blasted right into the helmet of the ghost. The entire head went flying away from the body at the force of the flare. The robotic body quickly went dead and dropped to the floor with a clang.

Maddie finally struggled out of the net, pushing herself to her feet. She watched, soundlessly, as her son strode over to the robot's head – which was still rolling around – and picked it up. He grabbed at something that was moving inside the helmet, and yanked out a small, green form. He dropped the helmet carelessly to his feet and held the thing up before his eyes. "Geez, Skulker. Are you shrinking?" he quipped, an evil glint in his eye.

The green thing struggled for a few seconds. "Release me, whelp! I am Skulker! I will…" it stopped its tinny whining as Danny gave it a sharp shake. Then, with a snort of derision, the boy tossed the ghost back through the Fenton Portal.

Grinning broadly, he turned back around and stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on Maddie. "Mom?" he whispered, terror in his voice.

Maddie just stared in blank amazement at her son.

* * *

Written December 9, 2006  
I'm not dead! I promise!  
Thanks for reading.


	18. The Nanny

_Bwa-hahahahaha... I do believe my sadistic streak is back. Yes, this doesn't follow cannon, it's probably even considered AU, but I don't care. Enjoy. _

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**The Nanny  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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It was a very odd house, built in a very odd town. Jessica Morosquitz, a young lady from a nanny service, walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell of 1031 Elm Street. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the place. The bright neon sign over the door declared that she was, definitely, at the right place. Nobody answered at first. Jessica rang the bell again, and a harried-looking mother opened the door. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was cleaning and didn't hear the doorbell," she sighed and gestured for Jessica to enter. Jessica walked primly into the house and followed the mother up the stairs to the first room on the right.

"This is your room," the mother, Madeline Fenton, said quickly, "I'm sorry to do this to you, but something has come up and we'll need to leave you here with Danny for the night. Come on, I'll introduce him to you."

Walking down the hall, she pointed out a picture. "That's our Danny." It was a picture of a beautiful boy, about six. The boy had dark hair and blazingly blue eyes.

Jessica smiled at her. "He's very handsome." Maddie glanced worriedly back at Jessica before continuing down the hall.

She knocked softly on the door at the end of the hall. "Danny? Your new nanny, Jessica, is here." Danny was silent.

Jessica smiled. "Danny? Can you come out?" she asked. But the room was silent. "Well, if you want to do anything, just ask."

Danny's mother shook her head. "He's a very bright child, but he's quiet and stays in his room. He'll come out later."

They met Danny's father at the door. The elder child, Jasmine, was carrying a backpack of toys and looked anxious to leave. When they opened the door, Danny's mother turned around. "It's best if you just give him what he wants, that's what we do," she whispered.

Danny's father smiled broadly, but his eyes were flat. "Yes, we spoil him to death." Without another word, he quickly ushered Maddie and Jasmine out the door and drove away.

* * *

Jessica went up to her room and started to unpack. She opened up a window to let some air in. She pulled out a picture of her and her family and smiled. A crack of thunder made her look up; it was starting to rain. 

Suddenly, the phone rang. Jessica picked it up. "Hello, Fenton residence."

There was heavy breathing on the other end. Jessica wrinkled her brow. She started to say hello again, when a child's voice said, "I want to play now Jessica."

"Danny? Is that you?" But the phone was hung up on the other side. She set down the phone and walked down to the room at the end of the hall. "Danny?" she asked.

A piece of paper was slid under the door. It had four words scribbled on it: _I want to play._

"What do you want to play?" Jessica asked.

Another note. _Treasure hunt_.

Jessica smiled. "I like that game. What should I find?"

_My picture_.

"That shouldn't be hard." She walked down the hall and was about to reach for the picture hanging on the wall when it fell. It shattered into dozens of fragments. Jessica sighed, kneeling down to pick up the pieces when she noticed something odd. There were _two_ pictures, one was the picture of the young boy that she had seen earlier –The other had been hidden behind. It was a family picture of the mom, the dad, the young girl, and... an empty space where a small figure had been cut out. Jessica's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" she whispered.

The phone rang again. This time the child's voice spoke immediately. "Now you have to find the marshmallow stick."

"No, Danny," she said. "That's too sharp. Pick something else."

"But I like marshmallows. They're like little ghosts." Then the phone went dead.

Jessica shook her head, but decided to play along for now. She walked down to the living room, intending to head for the kitchen to search for the oddly requested item. But something caught her eyes before she made it to the kitchen. Right next to the cold fireplace was a fire poker with a marshmallow stuck on the end. For a long time, she stood there staring at the poker. "How did… Fine. If that's what he wants…"

As she reached over to pick it up the dry wood in the fireplace burst into flame. Jessica screamed and fell backwards, tripping over the couch. She beat at the embers that had fallen on her shirt. She was still breathing heavily, her eyes wide, staring at the fireplace when the phone rang again.

The child spoke, with that heavy breathing in the background. "Let's keep playing."

"I'm getting tired of this game, Danny. Let's play something else."

The phone was silent for a minute. "Alright. Read me a story." The phone went dead again.

She stood still for the longest time. Her hands were trembling. "What is going on?" she whispered. She glanced over at the door, half a mind to just leave this place. Finally, she shook her head.

Jessica reached over and picked up a story book that had been sitting on the coffee table. She walked slowly up the stairs and sat down next to Danny's door. "How about Jack and Jill?" Danny was silent. "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his…"

She paused when a note was slid under the door. _I want Jack to die_.

"But Jack didn't die."

_I want Jack dead_.

Jessica sighed. "Jack fell down and…died."

_What about Jill?_

"Jill too."

There was the sound of breathing just on the other side of the door. Then a note was slid under the door. _What about you?_

Jessica stood up. "Danny, you come out now." Silence. "Danny!" She reached for the door knob, but when she touched it, she jerked backwards and cradled a burnt hand to her. "Danny?" she cried.

The lights flickered in the storm, pitch blackness falling around her for a few seconds. When they came back on, some children's letter blocks had arranged themselves on the floor. _See Jess Die._

Jessica screamed, having had enough with this demon child, and raced for the door. It locked just as she got there, the knob starting to glow. She backed away, and stumbled on a chair. The phone rang. "I'm hungry." The child said, and hung up.

Jessica just stood there, phone in her hand, gazing dazedly at the receiver. She tried to dial one of the numbers hanging on the refrigerator, but the phone was dead. She hung it up to leave, when the phone rang again. "Don't call my mom."

"This child is a demon," she hissed, fear causing her to glance over her shoulder. She trembled, dropping the phone to the floor and backing up against the wall. She jumped at a slight sound off to her side. "I have to get out of here."

She raced around the house, trying to open doors, windows, everything. She murmured soft prayers as she came up to each one. Despite her best efforts, they were all locked. Finally, as a last-ditch attempt, she walked up to Danny's room carrying a tray of tuna sandwiches. "I'm just going to leave these by your door."

She started to walk away, hoping that if he was happy she could sneak out, and made it to the stairs before the tray came hurtling down the hallway and slammed into her head. She rolled down the stairs, her mind falling into darkness.

Jessica woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. She reached over, fingers shaking so hard that they couldn't grasp the phone, and picked it up. "I don't like tuna."

"What do you like, Danny?"

"Guess."

Jessica went berserk. She grabbed a fire poker – still holding its marshmallow – and started to smash windows in the living room. She screamed when the poker didn't even leave a mark on the glass. "Let me out!" she yelled. Suddenly, she remembered… she had left the window in her room open.

She raced up the stairs and looked at the open window. On her bed was the picture she had brought of her and her family. She leaned over to pick it up. She froze. She had been cut out of her family picture. Jessica ran for the window, tears streaming down her face. But it slammed shut inches before her grasping fingers.

Outside in the hallway, a door opened. She could hear heavy breathing traveling down the hallway. Jessica shrieked and slammed her door shut. The doorknob twisted back and forth, but the lock held. The door started to break as if it were being pushed in by some strong force.

Mouthing wordlessly in terror, she ran through a side door in her room, not thinking about where it led. It entered into a young boy's room. Jessica looked around, her breathing ragged. This wasn't any boy's room. There were no spaceships or dinosaurs. The room was full of dead, decaying bodies. Skeletons hung from the ceiling, bones lay scattered around the room. She screamed herself hoarse, her breath fogging in the intense chill of the room. She didn't hear the heavy breathing coming up behind her.

"My name is not Danny," the child-like voice sang in her ear, "it's Phantom."

* * *

The next day, Danny's mom and dad called the nanny service. Jack was mad. "That's the fifth nanny this month. They all run away and are never heard from again. Why can't you send us a good one?" 

"We'll do better next time. When do you need one?" the lady on the phone asked in a bored tone.

Maddie leaned over and whispered to Jack, "Danny's getting bored. He wants to play."

Jack swallowed noisily and said, "As soon as you can. Today, if possible…"

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Written December 9, 2006  
I repeat: Bwa-hahahahaha...  
Thanks for reading.


	19. Lake Monster

_Yeah! Jazz gets her own story!_

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**Lake Monster  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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My family lives near a lake. This lake has half-a-dozen names depending on the person you talk to, the room available on a map, or the day, but the two names you encounter the most are Ice Lake and Crystal Lake. Our lake is connected to McKinney Lake and Hale Lake through underground pipes and settling ponds. What happens to one will, inevitably, happen to the others. All three lakes together still don't add up to much. 

Even the most devoted fisherman will tell you there is nothing in Ice Lake big enough to eat a small minnow. Because of this (and maybe the voracious appetite of the baby sunfish under the DNR-built dock) Ice Lake is perfect for all of the neighborhood children to fish in. Including me and my little brother, Danny.

When I was about nine, we went on a trip to our little lake. I had a Rainbow-Brite fishing rod, a bobber, and a skewered worm. Letting my brother and I catch numerous fish with our barbless hooks, my dad would sit back and work on his latest invention – some kind of ghost fishing rod. After about an hour, I had gotten bored with the little fish. I had my dad cast the bobber out farther where the little fish weren't going to eat my worm. Nothing bit. My dad walked over to where Danny was playing in the shallows to show him the almost-finished fishing rod, leaving me there. By myself.

I was just standing there when the rod jerked suddenly. Then jerked slightly again. Then, it was almost yanked out of my hands by the force of whatever had bitten onto the hook. The thing jumped out of the water – it had to have been about the size of a whale or a giant blue marlin. It was huge.

The line snapped. I was screaming my head off by this time and my dad was shaking the entire dock as he raced back, screaming about ghost fish. But it was too late. By then, all I had left in my hand was a rod and some broken line.

I've never figured out what it was. Nothing very big has ever been caught there. My dad figures it was a ghost rather than a fish and that I'm remembering badly - but I remember the stupid thing jumping out of the water. I saw it. _And_ I don't believe in ghosts.

Go figure.

I've had a psychotic complex towards fishing ever since…

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Written December 10, 2006  
hehehe... Fishing. (shudder)  
Thanks for reading.


	20. Summer Muskie

_Oooh... Jazz gets another fishing piece. Fun. A muskie is a HUGE fish found in large lakes. They can easily get to be 3-4 feet long (or longer) and are very hard to catch._

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**Summer Muskie**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

It had been a spectacular summer vacation. Our week at the lake as a mosquito buffet was almost over, I had mostly avoided the cousins, grandparents, and other assorted people I met only once a year, and, through either coincidence or my ingenious excuses, I hadn't had to go fishing. I have this thing with fishing… basically I don't like it. A lot. 

One day was left in our week-long "vacation" when the inevitable happened. Four relatives cornered me behind the cabin and dragged me fishing. At that moment I vowed horrible, terrible, gooey nose-bleed, gum in your hair, till-hell-freezes-over revenge.

Getting in the boat with my dad, my little brother, my very annoying cousin Matt, and my grandfather, I spotted the first of my acts of revenge. Becoming the rebellious 12 year-old I was – I drove. This would come across as much more scary if you knew that the boat had a huge, 40 horsepower, four-stroke, ectoplasmicly turbo-charged engine and that I had a unique ability to tip over canoes.

Quickly bringing the boat up to plane, I started to scan for a good fishing spot. Smiling at my scaredy-cat brother's white face screaming at me to slow down, I turned the boat into a bay. It was a perfect fishing spot – perfect for me, anyway.

I was in my element. Using my growing knowledge of psychology, I easily convinced the guys it was the greatest fishing spot ever discovered by anyone in the universe. I subtly stressed the idea of the bass that could be found in the weeds and that the fallen trees in the water were good cover for fish. My dad, scanning the place with a growing smile, took over from there. He proclaimed it perfect, and went on to explain exactly why using his "expert" knowledge in all things. Cue eye roll.

But _I_ knew that if you pulled something more than five inches long out of this bay it would be a miracle. The weeds were too scarce, the sun was too bright, the sandy bottom was too shallow, and my dad's fish/ghost finder was completely blank. There was nothing here. My dad and grandfather proceeded to tell my brother and cousin how to tie lures perfectly, jig the lines so the lures bounced enticingly, and cast with pin-point accuracy. Not that either one of them could do any of it… but they sure could talk about it.

As the guys fought over the best of the bass lures, I grabbed for the largest lure I could find… a muskie lure. My family didn't actually go muskie fishing, but if you went fishing on Lake Winnie you HAD to have a muskie lure. You just had to. I put a bobber on it so the lure wouldn't get stuck on the bottom when I never "remembered" to reel it back in, then I cast it out - barely missing my brother in the process. I grabbed my book and prepared to waste a large chunck of time ignoring everybody.

It seemed that I was right about the fish. An hour later we still hadn't caught anything. But we couldn't leave, not after my dad's spiel about how perfect the place was. Personally, I think that the glowing fishing line my dad invented was scaring off even the littlest minnows. Finally my dad and grandfather decided to leave, proclaiming loudly about how wrong the time of day was, how bad their fishing line was, and how the noisy fishermen fishing on the other side of the lake was scaring the fish. I just rolled my eyes. I wasn't going to complain.

Reeling in, I couldn't help the grin that was growing on my face. I had gotten out of fishing. But when I pulled my lure up into the boat, something was wrong. There was a fish on the end. I groaned, then leaned forward to grab the little thing and let it go before anyone noticed I had actually caught something... when I paused, stunned.

The fish was dangling from its tail. I had hooked it accidentally as I was reeling in. Much better, the fish was a little itty-bitty muskellunge. _I had caught a muskie!_ A new plan for revenge was shaping in my head. Laughing, I held up my fish, less than half the size of my lure, and got a picture taken. Then I let the poor fish go. I had never been so happy to catch a fish.

Driving back to the cabin, ignoring my fishing mates' glares, I couldn't stop grinning. Talk about revenge. Not only had I caught the _only_ fish, I had caught the only _muskie_ my family had ever caught. Me – the fishing hater, lure-and-bobber fisherman who never actually fishes. Of course, I told everyone I could about my fish the minute I got back. My marvelous muskie and I were the hit of the vacation.

It goes without saying that I haven't had to go fishing since.

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Written December 12, 2006  
Yep. This one's a semi-true story. Still have the picture of _my_ muskie:-)  
Thanks for reading.


	21. Command

_Challenge me to write a piece based off of eight silly words?? Bet you can't guess what they were!_

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**Command**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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In reality, only loopholes and mental back-flips prevented him from being a murder. 

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The boy's bright red eyes glared down at the human that was planted, like a boulder in a river, directly in his path. Cool, steaming ectoplasm curled into his fists, dripping out from between his clenched fingers and evaporating long before it could hit the ground. His teeth ground together as he searched for a way out her command.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
_--_Sam was hardly a man. A few bruises from being knocked to the side, but she would be fine._

The boy moved to the side and snarled as the man swiftly copied his movements and came back into his direct path. He took a step forwards, his flaring eyes narrowing in anger. For a heartbeat, the man seemed to be replaced by the laughing form of a tall, slim, and regal woman. In her hands she held a black pendant that glowed with eerie green, blue, and red lights – almost like swirling lightning. His heart involuntarily danced with pleasure as her lilting, scorn-filled voice floated into his memory.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--Tucker was more of a boy than a man. He had been tossed into a wall and forgotten. It was better that he was out of the fight anyway._

His feet lifted slightly off the ground with the force of his frustration and anger as he glared at the man. Why would the man not move!? It didn't help that odd necklace had the boy transfixed. He could do nothing but obey – even if it went against his deepest morals. This wasn't like Freakshow's staff. This was worse. That necklace didn't just hypnotize his ghost half… his human half was forced to follow her every word as well… even that awful order which echoed in his ears.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--Jazz neither was classified as a man nor was in his way. A half-hearted ectoblast had taken her out of the fight for long enough._

He could hear her talking softly in his ear, the swirling colors of the pendant dangling before his eyes, twirling his brain into a fog, and dashing away his free will. The lady needed something. It really wasn't much. All the boy had to do was retrieve it for her. And he so wanted to do that. He wanted nothing more than to make the lady happy. If only she hadn't said that last sentence, venom dripping from her voice.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--Valerie had been taken out of the fight in a matter of moments. He really had been holding back fighting her before. A few broken bones and a concussion, maybe… but she wasn't dead. Not yet._

"Move!" the boy cried. He brought a fist up to point it at the rock of a man. If only the man would move… that would solve his problem. A tear trickled down his cheek as he stared at the man. Soon, the man's blood would be covering the sidewalk and there was nothing the boy could do about it. His whole body desired to do what the lady commanded.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--Mr. Lancer was certainly a man. But he had been moving so fast in the opposite direction that he couldn't be counted as "standing" in his way. A small blast of ectoplasm sent the man running faster than every before, but relatively unhurt._

The necklace swirled into his thoughts, fogging his mind with roiling colors of green, blue, and red. The necklace was annoyed at the boy's hesitation. He needed to follow the lady's orders. Did he not want the lady to be happy? She would only be happy if he did what she said.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--His mother had been defiant to the end, refusing to budge, refusing to move. He had actually had to knock her unconscious before setting her out of the way. But she wasn't dead. At least she wasn't dead._

"Please," the boy begged, a pearlescent tear trickling down his cheek. He needed to get the thing for the lady, but he did not want to kill. The object of her desires was in the building right behind the man. He knew it. He knew that was why the man was in the way. He did not want the boy to get the device. It was too powerful, too dangerous. "I don't want to kill," the boy whispered, the ectoplasmic charge in his hand growing to such a level that it was beginning to send shocks back up his arm that made his teeth hurt. "Not even you."

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--His father had been in his path, true, but the large, pudgy man hadn't been able to mimic the side-step trick… and had thus gotten out of the way. No need to kill something that was no longer in the way. A simple flare of ectoplasm to melt the gun and a blast of ice to the feet had frozen his father in place and out of trouble. _

"Daniel," the man snapped. His voice was strained as he stared into the unnaturally red eyes of the boy floating before him. The man brought his hands up in a simple guard position. He knew that the ectoblast forming on the boy's hand would kill him if it hit. But he wouldn't move. Too much was at stake. "Stop." The boy shook his head. Could the man not understand that he _couldn't_ stop? He didn't really want to. He _wanted_ to follow her orders.

_Kill every man that stands in your way.  
__--The combined force of the Amity Park police could hardly be considered a "man." "Man" signifies one entity… there were multiple people there. If she had said "men," there might not be a police force in this city right now. As it was, they were all merely suffering from minor freezer burn. _

The lady required the object locked away in the building. He would get it. He would make her happy. The boy's heart pattered quickly for a moment as he pictured the smile that would grace her face. His glowing eyes half-closed in ecstasy as he thought about how pleased she would be when he returned with the item. Perhaps she would give him another job to complete. He loved to finish the jobs. It made him feel so good. The boy smiled, his joyful thoughts erasing the frustration and moral quandaries that had held him back for the past few moments. He wanted to see her smile. He _needed_ to see her smile. To do so, he needed to get the item. He needed to follow her orders. _All_ of her orders.

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The being before him was a man.

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The being before him was standing in his way.

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The man, thus, needed to be killed.

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The boy grinned with a lazy, pleased smile as he let the enormous blast of ectoplasm streak out of his hand and slam point-blank into the man that was standing before him. An explosion that registered on seismometers hundreds of miles away shook the town. Buildings cracked and sidewalks splintered. People dozens of miles away screamed and huddled together for safety.

_Kill every man that stands in your way._

The boy stepped over the still body of his former arch-enemy and paced towards the building unopposed. If only the fruit loop had been in his ghost-form. Then he wouldn't have truly been a man… The boy shook his head to clear the last bits of doubt out of his head. This thing must really be something special if Plasmius was willing to die to prevent her from getting it. He shrugged, phased through the last wall, and strode over to stare down at the small object lying on the table. So he was a murder now… at least the lady would be happy. He picked up the device and smiled contentedly. She would be happy.

* * *

Written December 15, 2006  
Bwahahahahaha... This ties in with "Light" if you didn't recognize the familiar evil lady.  
Thanks for reading!


	22. Embers

_Hey all! I needed to take a break from editing the next chapter of "Pits" to write something a little… less… depressing… Jeez that sounds horrible. Aw… you'll understand._

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**Embers**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

The little girl laughed, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Jinx!" she screamed. The girl smiled happily, gazing down into the eyes of her little brother. "You can't talk now until someone says your name!" She twirled around in a circle. 

Her little brother, a tousle-haired boy of about five, scowled. He hated this game. He glared pointedly at his sister for a few moments before storming off towards the house.

"Mom!" the girl shrieked, "I jinxed him! Don't say his name!" She raced after his receding form to inform everybody in the house that the boy had been jinxed. Again.

"Darling," her mother called from a window, "he hates this game. Please stop that."

The girl frowned, watching her brother stomp into the house. "How can he hate being jinxed? It's a fun game," she mused to herself. She flopped down into the grass to gaze up at the clouds, trying to figure her little brother out. "Maybe he should jinx me once, then he'd see how much fun it is."

She sat up, her eyes glittering. "It's a plan. He'll jinx me. I'm the queen of jinxing people… it shouldn't be that hard to get jinxed."

Racing into the house, barely stopping long enough to brush the grass and dirt off of her clothes, she tore after her brother. "Peter!" she screamed. "Peter?"

"What?"

She looked up the stairs to see him standing at the top of the staircase. "Guess what, Peter?"

"I don't want to."

"Come on, grumpy. It'll be fun." She smiled winningly at her brother.

He frowned down at her, trying to look like his father. "No. You always jinx me."

"I promise I won't. Cross my heart, cut out my spleen, and everything!"

"Really?" He bit his lip, his stoic façade breaking.

The girl nodded. "Promise."

He was silent for a moment. "What you wanna play?"

"Chutes and Ladders."

Finally, the boy grinned. "Okay. Come on up."

* * *

It was most of the way through the game before the girl managed to work her jinxing magic. "Good job," she said, carefully watching for his reaction. 

"Thanks!" the boy replied. He had on a huge smile as he moved his piece up another ladder.

"You sure are awesome at this game." She rolled her dice, moved her piece, and scowled as she landed on another chute. She slid her token back down the board nearly to the start.

Peter laughed. "You have the worst luck at this game."

"Not on purpose!" she shot back. She was silent as she watched him roll the dice and slowly move his piece closer to the top. "I'm getting hungry. We should go get a snack."

"Yeah." He didn't glance up from the board.

"Um…" she hesitated, her stomach twisting as she went in for the kill, "what you want?"

The boy laughed. "Jam sandwiches!"

Right on cue, the girl spoke in sync with him. "Jam sandwiches."

He looked up at her, his eyes open in shock. Long seconds passed – his brown eyes gazing at her. "You promised…" he whispered. Then he blinked in surprise as a thought crossed his mind. "You…" he trailed off again. "Jinx!" he shrieked suddenly, his smile threatening to tear his face in half. "JINX! JINX! JINX!"

She fought to keep her grin down. Peter jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at her. "Jinx, jinx, jinx, jinx, jinx!" He raced out of the room, leaving his sister behind. "MOM! I jinxed Amber!"

Finally, she gave in. Rolling on the floor, completely silent as per the rules of jinx, tears leaked out of her eyes. She gasped for breath between her silent fits of laughter. Nothing would every let her forget the look on his face. This was much more fun than just jinxing him.

* * *

As she settled into bed that night, the girl scowled up at the ceiling. She hadn't been unjinxed all evening. Her family was being very careful to avoid saying her name. She closed her eyes, sighing. This game was quickly loosing its fun. Maybe Peter had a point… She drifted off to sleep, not noticing a faint odor that was creeping into her room. 

It was hours later, well past midnight, when her eyes popped open. She coughed in the thick air, sitting up in bed. She scanned the room, her gaze taking in the black smoke that was covering the ceiling. Fire crackled by the door, tongues of heat licking at the posters that dotted her walls. She froze, her mind blank as she stared at the scene of destruction.

As the flames crept closer, the girl finally moved. She snatched her doll off of her bed and slid to the back of the room, her eyes wide. She huddled against the far wall. Coughing against the thick, acrid smoke, the girl searched desperately for a way out. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Finally, she opened up her closet and slipped inside.

In the relative coolness of the closet, the girl crouched on the floor and cradled her doll to her chest. _Mom_… she pleaded in her mind. _Come and find me_. She buried her face in her hands. _Mom…_

The smoke started to sneak into her closet. The girl stifled a scream. In the dimness of her fear-soaked mind, the girl couldn't stop thinking about her favorite game. She had been jinxed. She wasn't allowed to talk. The girl trembled, trying to force her mouth to work, trying to scream for help. But she couldn't. The fear was too great. The game was too powerful.

_Say my name,_ she screamed in her head. _Please! Say my name!_

She coughed harshly, her head spinning. The girl could hear the crackling of the flames from just outside her closet. She could feel the heat of the blazing fire. _Mom – why won't you say my name? Why won't you rescue me?_

She buried her head in her precious doll, dragging a few last breaths out of the poisonous furnace-like atmosphere. _You always unjinxed Peter when he wanted it. Why won't you help me? Just say my name!_

As her brain began to shut down from the fumes and the heat, the girl curled her body around her poor doll. _Why won't you say my name? I hate you! You HAVE TO say my name! I hate you!

* * *

_

Peter McClain shivered as the firemen carried away the stretcher. It had a black bag on it. He wasn't stupid. He knew what was in that bag. The fire chief walked slowly up to his mother, who was sobbing in his father's arms. The chief handed her a small doll – singed and sooty from the fire. She took it slowly, cradling it to her.

The boy knew that doll. He had given it to his sister for a birthday present last year. She loved it… although he figured that it was more because their mother didn't like it than the fact that he had given it to her. She had carried that poor doll around everywhere. Lately, she had begun to idolize that doll. She wanted to be just like her when she got older.

The doll was a rock musician. Black pants, sleeveless top, large boots, and long, blue hair. His sister had decided early on that the doll's hair would always be pulled back into a ponytail. She had named the doll Ember. Ember the rock star.

He walked up to his mother and gazed down at the ragged remains of his sister's favorite toy. Poor Amber. Poor Ember.

His father pulled him into a hug.

* * *

Deep in the ghost zone, two green eyes opened, the blue ponytail flaring into existence. "You _will_ say my name."

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Written December 29, 2006  
Inspired by my jinx-ish friend.  
Thanks for reading.


	23. Tree Therapy

_Ahhh... warm fuzzies for the holidays..._

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**Tree Therapy  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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When you see a tree, what's the first thing you think about? Do you open your mouth in awe of the wondrous creation, do you smile at the huge, old thing for standing up to the test of time, or just think, _oh – it's just another one of them tall up-and-down things_. Me – I have to smile, and laugh. 

It was a little over a mile and a half from my house to school, some of it through a wooded park, and I usually take immense pleasure in walking through it, avoiding the ground-keeper's vicious poodle. The trees there were huge evergreens, towering high into the sky.

It all started from a really bad day. It had snowed the night before, a lot, but not enough to cancel school. I hadn't studied for a test, and most of my homework wasn't done. My two best friends, Tucker and Danny, were trapped in detention and I had to walk home by myself. Combined with the unique and unmistakable taste of mass-produced, cheap, meat-based school food … I was in a really bad mood.

I stormed home, ignoring the yapping poodle who, lucky for him, was on a chain today. Stomping past the first of the pine trees, I tripped over a root hiding in the snow. I then proceeded to yell at the tree, but I don't think the tree minded. I even kicked it, only once because it hurt so much, but that one kick set off a chain reaction high up in the sky. The trees were mad … at me.

The one I had kicked dumped its heaving load of wet, melting snow with a wet thud. The first batch missed me, but I managed to jump right into the path of the next. Those trees can hold a lot of snow on their branches.

Snow trickling coldly down my back, I raced through the woods, tree after tree dropping snow behind me or beside me. By the time I had made it to the cover of the road, I was huffing and puffing, and collapsed by the side of the road in laughter. By the time I made it home, I could barely remember the bad day I had. It's no wonder I love plants so much. They make every day special.

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Written January 1, 2007  
Plant-Sam to the rescue!  
Thanks for reading.


	24. Shards

_Stupid plot bunnies. DOWN WITH THE BUNNIES! Yet another story that I may actually write someday. Until then... it's up for grabs if you want it. It's kinda odd. A different take on a small bit of an episode I recently caught._

_Oh... and_ something _is wrong with the first few paragraphs... but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. It doesn't flow right... it gets caught somewhere. If you figure out what it is, tell me please! I beg you!_

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**Shards  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny struggled against the stiff leather straps that held him to the table. He stared up at the man standing over him. Danny's eyes flared green in anger as he yanked at his bound wrists again. "Let me go!" he snapped. 

"You will _not_ tell me what to do!" the man snarled. His extremely pale face was given a sickening greenish cast in the light from Danny's eyes. "Ghosts obey _me_. I have the power, I have the control." The man suddenly turned away and started rustling through the disorganized stack of boxes that filled the other half of the room.

For the sixth time, Danny tried to phase himself through the table. Just like each previous attempt, he was zapped for his trouble. Shaking his head to try and clear the zing out of his brain, Danny settled his gaze on the pale man and glared.

"You have taken everything from me," the man ranted, "you took my family… my life… my family's heirlooms…" Silence filled the room for a few minutes as the man's ranting degenerated into an unintelligible mumbling. "Look what I have resorted too," he muttered darkly, "a small little room in a rundown apartment complex. The idiot girl next door is always screaming and blowing things up…"

He gave a quick yelp of happiness. Hordes of boxes shifted and groaned as the man pushed them out of the way. Finally, he twirled around. One small box was held clenched tightly in his fingers. He fixed his eyes on Danny and grinned. "You see, ghost, you may have _thought _you destroyed this little heirloom of mine, but I managed to collect the pieces."

Danny jerked his arms one last time before answering. When he spoke, his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so happy you found them."

"You should be," the man slowly held the box up for Danny to see. His amber eyes sparkled, the dim light giving his eyes an odd reddish cast. "For today is the dawning of a new era. I will be master."

"Like it worked so well last time," Danny sneered, "or, come to think of it, the time before that."

But the man didn't seem to notice. He was holding the plain cardboard box carefully, acting like he was holding the Holy Grail. "No one will be able to tell me what to do," he whispered to himself. "I will stand in no one's shadow." A maniacal grin crossed his face. "Especially ghosts. They will not come before me any more."

Danny licked his lips. "So, what's in the box?"

The man glanced up from the box. "Your future." He set the box carefully down on a table and opened up the flaps. Inside, hundreds of small, red bits glittered in the low light.

"Do you remember this?" the man continued. He reached down into the box and carefully pulled out one piece of the glittering red. Away from its companions, the fragment was very small, narrow, and translucent. It caught the light, sending tiny rainbows of red light dancing crazily around the room.

"That's it?" Danny asked sourly. "A bit of glass?"

The man's eyes hardened. "A bit of glass?" he snarled. "A _bit_ of _glass_? Do you not know what this is?"

"No."

"Do you remember my beautiful staff? It was a family heirloom – the red crystal had been passed down from generation to generation. I was the eighth son to receive it from my father. _And you broke it_."

Danny blinked. "That's not really fair. I had to catch Sam after _you_ had her pushed off of a train. I dropped it."

"Off of a hundred foot cliff!" The man shivered in rage for a second. Suddenly, he calmed himself. "But, I suppose, it's all for the better. If it hadn't broken, I never would have discovered this magical little ability." He smiled.

The man held the shard of his crystal up over Danny's head. "Now," the man soothed, "from what I've heard from the other ghosts, this will only hurt for a second."

"What are you doing?" Danny hissed, renewing his vigorous yanking against the leather straps.

"Why, ghost, I am making you my minion." The man's smile grew. "Permanently."

With a soft chuckle, the man dropped the red shard into Danny's right eye. Danny jerked, his eye screaming with pain as the razor-sharp fragment sliced into him.

Then he went perfectly still.

When he opened his eyes again, they were the same bloody red as the crystal had been.

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Written January 12, 2007  
Well. Yet another "slave" story. Hm...  
Thanks for reading.


	25. Phantom Trials

_(shrugs) This has probably been done before, but it was biting me. Live with it.

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**Phantom Trials  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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This was my big break. I had waiting in line all night to get this seat – the one right behind where the defendant was going to sit. I had all new equipment: a new recorder, new notepads, new pens… I even had new shoes for the occasion. If I could pull of this report, I wouldn't be doing puppy food articles any more. I would be big time. 

I had just gotten everything set out perfectly when the doors on the left-hand side of the courtroom opened. The normal buzz of the room dropped to silence as people watched the defendant walk into the room. He strode confidently towards his table, his white hair sparkling in the harsh lights.

As he took his seat next to his lawyer, he glanced around and smiled at two teenagers sitting next to me. I shivered and sat back in my seat. The shiver was partly due to the sharp chill that had suddenly tinged the air and partly due to the fact that the most powerful being in America was sitting mere feet away. People on all sides of me tried to surreptitiously slide farther away from him, and more than a handful abruptly left the courtroom. Oh yes, this case was going to jump-start my fizzling career.

"All rise!" the bailiff intoned. "The honorable judge Adrian Filch presiding." Everyone still left in the courtroom stood up as an older gentleman walked into the room. I noted that the defendant was floating several inches off of the floor.

Judge Filch stood behind his chair for a second before saying, "Please be seated." He picked up the case file and scanned it. "The case of the city of Amity Park versus Daniel Phantom, deceased, is now in session."

The judge looked up from his case file to glance at Phantom. "Deceased… and yet still present, eh?" He raised an eyebrow. "This is going to be one interesting case."

Phantom laughed softly. "You have no idea," he whispered under his breath. I wouldn't have caught it if I hadn't been sitting right behind him.

The teenaged girl sitting next to me dropped her head into her hands. "This is so wrong," she hissed. I couldn't help but notice the quick look that Phantom shot her. Phantom was grinning.

I just sat back in my chair and shook my head. This was no way for a murder suspect to be acting. He was behaving like this was no big deal. Of course, he was dead already, so maybe he figured there was nothing anybody could really do to him. All I knew was that the judge had been right: this was going to be one _interesting_ case.

And thus began trial for the murder of Danny Fenton.

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Written January 13, 2007  
Plot bunny two of four.  
Thanks for reading!


	26. Puzzles

_Happy, happy birthday – from all of **you** to **me**!  
__I'm glad it is my birthday, as you can plainly see!  
__Happy, happy birthday, please let my dreams come true!  
__For my birthday I have wished, for your sweet **review**! YEAH!

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**Puzzles  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny snickered as he paid for the present. It was a great birthday present for Jazz. Ever since Jazz had given him that special deck of cards for his birthday, he had been planning his revenge. She deserved it. It had taken him nearly a month to figure out how to upstage her horrifically wonderful present idea. But now he had it. It was _perfect_. 

He raced home, the tiny bits inside of the box clattering against each other. After a month of work picking out the idea, two weeks of waiting, and a half-hour at the store, everything was coming together. He had the present with him, and a large roll of cheap wrapping paper and tape hiding under his bed at home.

Night was falling; he'd have to work fast. Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday, and getting her present ready would take all night. What was one more sleepless night? It was all worth it when she opened her present tomorrow morning.

Danny dropped the box on his bed and dragged out his wrapping paper and tape. After checking the lock on the door, he picked up the box and phased just the container, letting the pieces on the inside fall onto his bed. He grinned down at the odd-shaped pieces. There were 550 of them according to the box. This was fantastic.

He shook his head as he starting cutting the wrapping paper, remembering his birthday present. Jazz had given him a deck of ghost cards… and every single one of the cards had been individually wrapped. Of course, his dad had been sitting right next to him the entire time, staring down at the cards, so he couldn't just phase the cards out of the paper. No - it had taken him nearly an hour to unwrap each of the hundred-some cards. It had taken another two hours to get away from his parents. He had vowed at that time to get his revenge.

This… this was _way _better than her idea. He chuckled quietly as his picked up one piece and carefully wrapped it. He put one tiny piece of sticky tape onto the wrapping paper to hold it in place, then phased the piece back into the unopened box. He picked up a second piece and enveloped it in the birthday paper. He could see it now. She wouldn't know what was coming.

He yawned as he picked up his three-hundredth piece. This wasn't just about how much needed to be unwrapped, oh no. He was much more devious than that. Maddie and Jack Fenton were nuts about puzzles. They would get out a puzzle and then would not stop putting it together until it was completely finished. Through rain, storm, sleet, or ghost-attack, the puzzle _would _be put together. In an almost obsessive sense, they could not let a puzzle sit un-solved.

Piece four hundred. He had spent nearly a week trying to find the right puzzle: a puzzle that their parents wouldn't be able to just let sit in the box. After completely striking out, Sam had helped him find a custom-puzzle store so he could get a puzzle just the way he wanted it. She had also helped him pick out the perfect picture to put on it. He glanced at the clock – 2 am. He giggled sleepily.

An hour later, he was almost finished. Each and every piece of the puzzle had been individually wrapped and placed back in the box. After the last piece had been put back into the box, he carefully wrapped the box with a layer of pretty paper and put a bow on top.

Jazz would be so happy. He hid the puzzle under his bed and leaned back on his bed, suppressing an evil chuckle. Maddie and Jack would be happy too. How often do you have the chance to put together a one-of-a-kind puzzle of the infamous ghost boy of Amity Park? He groggily tried to figure out how long Jazz would be stuck with their parents tomorrow, first unwrapping, and then putting together the entire puzzle. He figured six hours at least.

He grinned and finally went to sleep. Revenge is best served after a good night's sleep, after all.

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Written January 14, 2007  
My little bro got me a puzzle... each piece individually wrapped... anybody know a good revenge?  
Thanks for reading!


	27. Grand Canyon

_Another one bites the dust... yet another plot bunny finally out of my mind. They are really multiplying in my head lately. I like this one though._

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**Grand Canyon  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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It's Fenturd's fault. I know it is. It's always his fault. There he is, plummeting to his death next to me – and he's doing what? He's _smiling_. He's _enjoying_ this for some reason. 

Wait. I need to back up a few steps… in more ways than one.

A few months ago, Mr. Lancer's sixth period English class decided to enter some kind of contest. Don't ask me what kind it was – I wasn't paying attention. Somehow, we managed to win it. Our prize? The whole class got to go on a field trip to Arizona to see one of the natural wonders of the world: the Grand Canyon.

Yes. We got on a smelly, ugly bus with a bunch of smelly, ugly losers to travel across the country to see a giant hole in the ground. I was only vaguely disappointed when I found out it wasn't a smelly, ugly hole. It was actually pretty clean and kind of looked nice. If you're in to that kind of thing, I mean.

Anyway – Paulina, Kwan, Star, and I were standing next to the edge while one of the band geeks took our picture. That's where this whole problem really started.

"Oooh…" Paulina gasped, leaning around me to stare at something. "Look at the losers!" I glanced at her, taking in her small, beautiful smile. Then I focused on the loser trio. Fentonia was sitting on the fence railing right next to the cliff, laughing like nothing was wrong. Paulina leaned against me. "He's rather brave to be that close to the edge."

"He's not that close," I muttered. As Star went to get back our camera, I took a few steps closer to the edge, swallowing sharply as my fingers closed around the railing. Slivers dug into my palms as I hastily tried to figure out how long I needed to stand here before I could leave. I don't like heights. I fell out of a tree when I was little and I haven't liked big drops since. Standing here was not that much fun.

Then Kwan had to speak. "Bet you can't get closer to the edge than Fenton."

It only took one glance at my friends to know I couldn't back down from this challenge. I _knew_ it was a bad idea. But… yes. I did it anyway. I wasn't going to let a _loser _beat me at anything. With a snarl towards Fenturtle for getting me into this – it really _was_ his fault – I climbed over the fence.

I was too close to the edge. I glanced over the edge, feeling my head spin from the dizzying height. It was a _long_ way straight down. I wanted back over the fence. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants and started to back away from the cliff.

"Mr. Baxter!" Startled by the angry shout from my teacher, I jumped a little and spun towards him. My foot came down wrong. My ankle twisted painfully.

And I fell.

No, of course I didn't manage to fall the right way. I fell over backwards. Having twisted around when Lancer yelled at me, this left me falling right over the cliff.

Plummeting through the air back first, I had a great view of what happened next. I saw that loser Fenton watch me fall with wide eyes. He screamed my name, and then threw himself over the edge as well.

By this point, the air was whistling past my ears, making it impossible to hear anything. I couldn't even hear myself shouting. But I could see Fenton. He was dropping through the air like a bullet, coming up even with me by the time we had dropped about fifty feet or so. When he caught up with me, he spread out his arms like an eagle and slowed down to fall right next to me. This is, coincidently, right about where my story started. He's plummeting to his death, I'm yelling my head off (like any sane person would do), and Fenton is grinning like _nothing_ is wrong.

He reaches out a hand for me. He's mouthing something – I can't make it out over the screaming of the wind. He finally rolls his eyes and somehow maneuvers through the air to grab my hand. One of his hands is grabbing mine; the other is fiddling with something around his waist. Suddenly, an odd, tingling feeling zings through me.

At this point, I shut my eyes. Death via pancake was coming up to meet me at a very fast speed. I did _not_ want to see my brains splattered all over the ground. Can you blame me?

"Dash!" I heard him bellow over my shouting. "SHUT UP!"

It took about a second for me to realize that I could actually hear over the shriek of the air passing by my ears now. It took a second more to figure out that I hadn't splatted yet. A few more seconds, and I was able to stop yelling.

"There's no need to scream," Fenton said sourly.

I wasn't screaming. Let's get that straight right now. Screaming is for losers and children. "I'm going to die, Fen-tun. I can _shout_ if I want to."

"You're not going to die." I could almost hear the eye roll in his voice. That would have gotten him pounded if a strange thought hadn't crossed my mind at that point. Well – crossed it again. _I hadn't splatted yet_.

I opened my eyes. Fenton and I were still falling through the air, but it was much, much slower. The ground was about fifty feet away and was still getting nearer, but not nearly as fast as I thought it should be. I stared down at the ground for a moment before being able to speak. "Huh?"

Fenton grinned at me. "My mom built this stupid invention and she made me wear it." He pointed to his silver and green belt. "It's called the Fenton Faller. She was scared I'd fall off the cliff." He chuckled at this. Why would he find the idea of falling to his death funny? "Unfortunately, it only does 'down'… so we're going to have to walk back up."

I looked up at the people who were staring down at us from the top of the cliff. They were a very long ways up. I sighed, slowly realizing that we were in a lot more trouble than Fenton figured. My ankle was throbbing – if it wasn't broken than it was really badly sprained. There was no way I would be walking out of this. Helicopter rescue wasn't going to happen with the odd wind gusts that tour guy had been talking about; the whole area was a no-fly zone.

I'd be just me and Fenton. At the bottom of a huge hole. Full of who-knows-what kinds of wild animals. And night was falling.

* * *

_And confusion reigns. Danny and Dash at the bottom of the grand canyon, Dash with a broken ankle. Sam, Tucker, and all the rest up on top – Sam and Tucker having no idea about the about the flying belt and trying to explain how Danny and Dash survived the fall… hehe… How are they going to be rescued?! AND there's the "mysterious" winning of the contest (Vlad!) and a few native ghost stories thrown in (I'm from Arizona). _

_I really, _really _want to write this story. But I cannot. Not until I finish one of my other stories. I'm saving it. Barely. Ever so barely. _

_Yet… don't be surprised if you see it soon. :-)

* * *

_

Written January 15, 2007  
I love the Grand Canyon.  
Thanks for reading!


	28. Three Months and Counting: Danny

_RUN! The bunnies are after me! RUN!_

**

* * *

**

**Three Months and Counting  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny

* * *

Danny kicked open the doors to Casper high and stormed in. His morning had been… boring. He'd managed to sleep through the entire night without any ghost problems, gotten up on time for once, actually gotten dressed and out of the house without being attacked by a single Fenton invention, and had made it to school before the bell rang.

All in all, he was in a really odd mood. His weird-ar had been going off all night and _nothing_ was wrong. He snarled softly as he stalked into the school. It was unusual for his paranoia to be this wrong. He even had his homework done for crying out loud. Everything was depressingly normal.

He listened to his feet hitting the tiles a few times… then slowly came to a stop. He stared around at all the students in the hallways. They were completely silent, completely still. They were all staring at _him_.

Danny swallowed. "What?" he asked. His voice sounded like it barely made it past his lips before dying. He twisted around to look behind him – nothing. He glanced down at his clothes – normal. "What?" he asked a bit louder.

"D…Danny?"

He glanced up, a grin crossing his face. "Sam!" He shot a look around at the statue-like student body. "What's going on?"

The gothic teenager came to a halt. "You mean you don't know?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, focusing back on her. "What?" He blinked when he saw the tears in her eyes. "Sam… what's wrong?"

"Danny…" she trailed off. Her hands were clenched at her sides. "Danny…"

A familiar red beret came around the corner at a run. "Sam?" he said, then skidded to a stop. "Danny?" His hazel eyes widened. He broke into a grin. "Danny!"

"Tuck…" Danny took a few steps closer to Sam. He reached out a hand to touch her, but she slid backwards out of his reach. Sam was slowly shaking her head, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Tucker," he tried again, "what's going on?"

Tucker sighed. "You don't know?"

"No," Danny as starting to get a bit frustrated at the lack of answers. "What?"

"Dude," he began, "you disappeared three months ago."

Danny laughed shortly. "Right…"

Tucker nodded slowly. "What's the date?"

"January 16th." Danny rolled his eyes. "Why?"

The other boy shook his head. "It's April 23rd."

Danny glanced around at the freakily silent high school students for a second. He laughed shakily. "No, it's not. Last night was January 15th. It was Monday; we went to the movies since there was no school. It was the 16th when I woke up this morning. I talked to my parents _this morning_, Tuck." He dropped his backpack onto the floor, butterflies beginning to flit around in his stomach.

He fixed his blue eyes at Sam. She had begun trembling, her arms curled around her stomach. She sank to the ground, burying her head in her knees. "I know I'm slow getting to school – but three months is a bit long, even for me."

He tried to laugh, but his weird-ar was going off so loudly that it was making his head hurt. He listened to the silence for a few heartbeats, watching Sam sitting on the floor. Then he glanced back up at his best friend. He smiled slightly. "Right?"

Tucker shook his head slowly. He had just opened his mouth to say something when a deeper voice cut through the school. "The Thirteenth Tale!" The bulky figure of Mr. Lancer stepped in front of him. "Mr. Fenton?" he asked a bit quieter. The teacher reached out and touched Danny on the shoulder. "Mr. Fenton." Face paler than Danny had ever seen it, Lancer started directing Danny through the halls to his office. "Come with me."

By this point, Danny's knees were shaking. "What…" He stumbled through the halls, watching the amazed, silent faces of his fellow students as he passed by. Each pair of astonished eyes only solidified the truth of his situation.

It's wasn't January. It was April.

Three months were gone.

Lancer pushed the dazed boy through the door of his office and sat him down in one of the chairs. The man leaned against his desk, a dumbfounded smile creeping onto his neatly-shaved face. "Mr. Fenton," he said again. He drummed his fingers softly against the table. "Mr. Phantom."

Danny's dazed gaze suddenly jerked up to stare at his teacher. "What?" he whispered.

Lancer just shook his head. "Let's call your parents… shall we?"

"My… my parents?" Danny's voice cracked. He watched, his knuckles white against the edges of the chair, as Lancer picked up the phone and started to dial.

* * *

Written January 16th, 2007  
I need to work on one of my stories, not these drabbles.  
Thanks for reading!


	29. Airplane

_It has come to my attention that some people would... like... me to continue some of my oneshots. People have been asking me ever-so... politely... in the reviews and messages they send me. I must say, however, that to continue oneshots defeats the purpose of the 'one'shot in my mind. This area was set up to contain oneshots and nothing else. Thus, "Star Shots" is going to be changing format slightly from this point on. Two-shots (also known as 'continuing oneshots' - but I hate that oxymoronic phrase) may (okay... _will_) show up here. _

_The first one up is "Three Months and Counting" which, I'll admit, I originally designed to be continued (obviously, as it doesn't come across as a 'completed' story in any sense of the term). After that, it's rather fair game. I'm not obsessed with continuing any one story. THUS... if you've actually read to this point... if there are any stories that you are just dying to find out what happens next, please give me a holler. _

_But please. Leave the pitchforks, demon-spawn, assorted rabid pets, torches, and electronic torture devices at home._

_Oh... and to whomever asked and to whomever may be interested... all my "Star Shots" are up for adoption to be continued. All I ask is that you send me a message saying you are doing it and that I get some kind of credit in your story. :-)_

**

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**

**Airplane  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

The blond haired man leaned back in his first-class seat and sighed. Around him, the other people of the 747 buzzed quietly in the background. Listening to the drone of the engines, he let his eyes drift closed. 

"Excuse me, sir?"

Blue eyes snapped open. He glanced over at the flight attendant. A small smile crossed his face – it was the cute one with the large hoop earrings.

She smiled at him. "Would you like some more water?"

"Yes, please," he answered. The man handed her his little, plastic glass, watching as she carefully filled it with spring water.

"You know," she said cheerfully, "we're passing over Amity Park right about now. It's supposedly the most haunted town in the world."

He shivered, a chill running down his back for a second. It had felt like someone had just walked over his grave. Then he grinned, dismissing it. "I don't believe in ghosts."

The flight attendant raised one carefully shaped eyebrow and tapped her fingernails against the plastic cup. "Well, if you were destined to see one it'd be over Amity Park, I'd expect."

"Right… ghosts," he chuckled.

She shrugged. "Here's your water, sir." She held out the filled glass for him to take.

Suddenly, a white-haired boy with green eyes flew down through the ceiling and grabbed his glass. "Thanks!" the meat-splattered boy called as he vanished through the floor.

The first-class section of the plane was completely silent. The man and flight attendant stared down at the floor where the boy had disappeared. A few other passengers were gazing bemusedly up at the ceiling and most of the rest were shaking their heads, already dismissing what they had seen.

The flight attendant blinked a few times. "Did you see…" She was cut off as a bulky man in a white suit pushed past her, holding an odd-looking device in his hand. The machine beeped excitedly. "Excuse me," the attendant said as she regained her balance.

"Not now," the man growled. "We have a class five breech in sector Q-beta."

"What?" the blond man asked. "What kind of breech?"

"Ma'am," the suit ignored the blond passenger and flourished a thick looking business card for the flight attendant to take. "I am 'D', head detective of the Guys in White, division three. We have had a class five breech and I need to contact my direct supervisor."

She blinked her purple eyes as she stared down at the white card. "A what?"

"A ghost attack!" 'D' gestured widely. "You just had a class five ghost attack this aircraft and steal a treasured human possession."

"Wait," the blond man interjected, "it was just a glass…"

'D' continued to ignore him. "This aircraft, its passengers, and all personal belongings need to be decontaminated as per regulation 7A, paragraph three, subparagraph 5."

The flight attendant continued to stare down at the card, flipping it over and over, one eyebrow raised. "Um…"

"Acting swiftly and surely is the only way to prevent the ghost from returning and stealing more items. The ghost is obviously obsessed with…" the white-suited man trailed off, glancing over at the blond passenger for the first time. "What exactly was it he stole from you?"

"A glass of water."

'D' nodded firmly. "We are either dealing with a water-obsessed ghost or a glass-obsessed ghost. I will need you to quarantine all glasses and water in the tail section of the plane and await further orders." He glared at the flight attendant, who was still staring at the white card. "Are you listening, ma'am?"

She jerked her head up, squinting at him. "There's nothing written on this card. It's blank."

"Nonsense." 'D' grabbed the card and held it at an angle. "Why blemish the crisp whiteness of the paper with something as ugly as colored ink. Look," he held out the card. "It's imprinted."

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced.

'D' continued. "Now, as I said, we must move fast." He grabbed the bottle of water and the stack of cups off of the flight attendant's cart. "You are in charge of collecting all water and glasses and removing them to the back of the plane." He waited until the flight attendant had hesitantly grabbed the items. "From this point on, you will be referred to as 'P' to help decrease communication time."

She blinked, switching her gaze from the stack of glasses in her hand to the white-suited man. "Um…"

"Good. Now, I'm going to go organize the rest of the flight attendants and speak to the captain." He waited for a second, watching the confused lady stand there. "Move!" he bellowed, "Our lives may very well rest in your hands, 'P'."

She jumped and twirled around, grabbing various cups from passengers as she hurried towards the back of the plane.

The blond passenger watched her go before switching his gaze back to the large man in the crisp, white suit. 'D' looked down at him and gave him a short smile. "Be calm, citizen. We have the situation well in hand."

As the white suit headed up the aisle, the passenger settled back into his seat and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Now, I'm thirsty," he muttered darkly. Listening to the random orders from the Guy in White, the passenger let his mind drift. Apparently, they would be sitting in the Madison airport for quite some time while the plane and all of its contents were "examined" and "decontaminated."

He snorted and straightened his suit. "Ghosts… right," he sighed. Well, at least it would be an interesting story to tell while explaining to Mr. Masters why he had missed his interview. Anyway, he was out of Amity Park. He'd never see another ghost ever again.

Yet… for some reason that thought made a shiver run down his back.

* * *

Written January 17, 2007  
Taken from "Mystery Meat" if you hadn't guessed.  
Thanks for reading.


	30. The Juggler

_Beware: randomness_

_When Danny was little and the house is extremely quiet, he was at his worst. He just had to sing a song, or plunk on a pot, or something. More than once, the three white baseballs sitting in the closet in his room beckoned him to play. He would play marbles, bowling, Intergalactic Alien Egg Bombardment, just about anything. This one time he came across a new game to play..._

_

* * *

_

**The Juggler  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_Bang! Boom, bang!_

I slipped to the floor of my room, and with a nervous glance at my closed door.

I started to scramble around picking up the dropped balls. My dad was downstairs sleeping after a hard night working on some new invention, and I had just dropped three very hard baseballs right above his head. He probably woke up thinking that ghosts were attacking. I snickered softly.

The balls were heavy in my hands. Two in the left, one in the right. _Throw, throw, throw_!

And they were up in the air! _Catch, throw, catch, throw..._

Shoot! I threw one too hard.

_Clunk_.

That's one down. Juggling two balls is a breeze though. Stopping the two remaining balls, I reach for the third one, resting up against the closet. Then I froze.

_Creak_...

There it is again. Sounds like someone heavy is moving around downstairs. I rolled the balls under my bed and jumped into a chair. I grabbed a nearby book. Opening it to a random page and quickly turning it right-side-up, I pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in the words.

Silence.

Then the_ k-chunk_ of the refrigerator door opening sounded faintly through my closed bedroom door. I knew that my father was awake in the kitchen. _Creak, creak_. He walked back into the living room and settled back into his chair.

I grinned with malicious delight and laughed softly to myself. Dropping the book back on the chair, unread, I picked up those three heavy balls again and tossed them back into the air.

* * *

Written January 19, 2007  
Wish I could juggle...  
Thanks for reading.


	31. Death of a Son

_(sob) I'm sorry!! (cries)_

_Warning: This one is dark and angsty. Read with care.

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_

**Death of a Son  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Her fingers trembled as she worked to open the small box and took out the new bottle of aspirin. She quickly swallowed two pills, biting her lip as she waited for the medicine to take away the pain. Everything hurt – but most especially her head and her heart.

Carefully, she leaned forward and pushed his white bangs out of his face. A tiny small crossed her face as tears trickled down her cheeks. Her fingers accidentally bushed against his cold skin and she jerked her hand back like she'd been stung, a sob shaking her body.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, pressing her clenched fingers against her mouth as she watched her son lie on the couch. Her blurry vision took in his deathly still form. There was no rise and fall of his chest to show that he was still alive. The large hole in his side oozed sluggishly.

Maddie wiped her eyes furiously before reaching out to touch his face. Her fingers lightly stroked his cheek for a moment before she pulled them back away. She shook her head in soundless denial, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach. "No…" she moaned, more tears peppering the floor. "No…"

Her head throbbing wildly and her throat stinging, she shakily reached for the bottle of aspirin and dropped another pill into her mouth. "Please," she begged as curled up, her forehead coming to rest on her knees. "Please… no…"

"Danny…" she sobbed. "I'm sorry." She could barely hear herself over her own crying. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought surfaced that she should call Jack and Jazz and tell them what had happened. They were gone on some father/daughter weekend getaway.

But before she could, the memory resurfaced. Maddie screamed softly as the events of the day replayed in her mind – a slideshow of the vivid snapshots and sounds that had lead up to this moment.

Phantom, standing by the portal in the lab, a small smile on his face.

Her gun, the latest in ghost hunting technology, cradled in her hands.

His pain filled yelp as the gun hit him in the back, tossing him against the wall before he collapsed onto the floor.

The look of terror and hurt that filled his wide, green eyes when he looked up into hers, the barrel of the gun pointed straight at him.

"No." His whispered denial as the gun charged, the greenish light from the rapidly building energy illuminating his face.

His tortured scream as the blast took him in the stomach. "Mom, NO!"

The clatter of the weapon as it crashed to the floor in the silence that followed.

The sudden, horrible feeling of dread as she tried to process what was happening.

Pieces quickly fitting together like a puzzle around that one word – Mom.

Slurring into an undeniable truth.

Her shriek of panic as she sank down to her son's side, sweeping him up in her arms and rushing him up to the living room.

Where she had finally noticed that he wasn't breathing.

His heart wasn't beating.

Maddie remained curled up into a little ball as the memories played over and over in her mind. She sobbed into her arms. "Why?" she rasped. "Danny… why?"

Her fingers reached out to the bottle of medicine again. It was supposed to take away pain, why wasn't it working yet? It took nearly a minute of work before her shaking body managed to get the bottle open. She poured another pill into her hands and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes and wishing for the pain to vanish. She set the bottle back on the table, accidentally knocking it over and causing the few remaining small pills to roll all over the table.

She didn't seem to care. She uncurled herself and leaned over her son's motionless body again, reaching out to touch his cheek. "No," she whispered as, once again, she confirmed her worst fears. Her son was dead.

Shaky fingers reached out and grabbed another aspirin off the table. Carefully, lovingly, she picked up Danny's limp body and pulled it into a tight hug. She held him against her for a long moment, her tears wetting his white hair. Maddie pressed her warm cheek against his cold one and started to softly sing the lullaby he had liked when he was a baby.

A small smile crept onto her face as she started to feel the medicine working. Her pounding headache faded away, the burning of her throat and eyes weakened, and her churning stomach settled. Slowly, she started to float inside of her body, her worries and pain wafting away.

She sighed, her gaze passing unconcernedly over the coffee table, where only three lonely aspirin still sat. Leaning back against the couch, her son held tightly in her arms, she closed her eyes and relaxed. A few more bars of hummed lullaby drifted out of her before the house fell into silence.

Hours later, Danny – who naturally lacks both lungs and a heart in ghost mode – pulled himself out of unconsciousness to find himself cradled in his dead mother's arms.

* * *

Written January 21, 2007  
(runs and cries)  
Thanks for reading.


	32. Just Another Day in Paradise: Bad Dream

_Even in the worst of times, our lives can be perfect._

**

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**

**Just Another Day in Paradise  
**_A series of oneshots inspired by the song "Just Another Day in Paradise" by Phil Vassar_

_

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_

**Bad Dream  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny's eyes snapped open. Inches from his nose, a pair glowing eyes hovered in the darkness. Warm, slightly smelly breath puffed against his face before the eyes drifted backwards a few feet. Danny pushed himself up onto an elbow and blinked sleepily at the alarm clock next to his bed: 2:00 am. 

Cool, spectral energy pulsed through his veins for a heartbeat, his eyes lighting up to match the greenish glow of the other set of eyes. The pitch black room jumped into focus. Danny glanced around, noting that everything still looked normal, before letting his gaze drift back to the presence that had woken him up.

He could now see that the two eyes were connected to a slight frame with tousled, dark hair and rumpled train pajamas. The small figure clutched a teddy bear tightly in his hands. Danny smiled slightly, knowing the child would be able to see it despite the darkness of the room. "What's wrong, buddy?" he asked, fighting down a yawn.

The boy took a small step forwards. "Teddy had a bad dream," he whispered.

Danny felt a warm presence against his back. Sam rested her head on Danny's shoulder for a second. "A bad dream, huh?" she said softly.

Andy nodded, his intensely glowing eyes dimming slightly as the memory of the nightmare faded away. "Teddy was wondering if he could sleep with you tonight."

Danny sighed softly. They weren't going to let Andy do this anymore. He needed to learn to stay in his own bed. Danny was about to get up to help Andy back to bed when Sam said, "Sure, but just for tonight." She yawned and scooted back to her side of the bed.

Danny rolled his eyes, but helped Andy climb onto the bed. Andy curled up between them, his teddy bear clutched tightly to his chest, two hazily glowing eyes drifting shut. Within a few breaths, he was back to sleep.

"You know, he would have done that in his own bed," Danny whispered.

Sam blinked down at her son, carefully brushing some of the dark hair out of his eyes. "I know," she breathed. She looked up at him, amethyst eyes sparkling in the dark, a soft smile on her face. "One more night."

Danny smiled at her, shaking his head a little. He watched as she drifted back to sleep, one hand resting protectively on Andy's sleeping form. In a few minutes, the room was silent except for the soft breathing of the two people he loved more than anything else in the world.

Finally, a small, nearly silent chuckle escaped his lips. Glancing once more around the room and tucking the covers securely around Andy, Danny rested his head back down on his pillow. Almost unconsciously, his hand found the one that had already settled on his son's back. A grin on his lips, he slipped back into sleep.

It was, after all, just another day in paradise.

* * *

_Note: I'm borrowing the name "Andy" from Chaos Dragon (hope she doesn't mind) because it's just so perfect. If you haven't, GO READ HER STUFF!_

Written January 28, 2007  
Say it with me: aaawwwwwww. :-)  
Thanks for reading.


	33. Imprints: The Nursery

_Movies aren't the only things that cannot change..._

_

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_

**Imprints**  
_A series of oneshots about the often ignored 'remnant' ghosts._

_

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_

**The Nursery  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

A boy sat in the corner of the room, feet splayed out before him, his head bent intently over a small, thin box held in his hands. The only source of illumination in the room was the tiny LCD screen imbedded in the box. A grin flittered across the boy's face as tiny, rather soft beeping noises filled the room.

Occasionally, the boy would glance up from his toy to scan the room. After each scan, he would shake his head and then continue with his game. The soft beepings and whirings of the game became an odd sort of lullaby not quite suited to the ancient nursery he was currently occupying. Even though this third-floor room was created for children, dust covered every surface. Cobwebs snaked from the ceiling. Spiders and small critters inhabited the darkened recesses of long-forgotten toys. The boy, playing with his game, was quite alone.

Until, rather suddenly, he was not.

A woman was walking through the room, a sad, distant smile on her face. Her gaze passed over the filth, the insects, and the brokenness of the room, her eyes never lingering on the dangling spider webs. She ghosted over to one of the shattered cribs, her pale fingers delicately stretching out to touch an unseen child.

Although the woman made no sound – her thin body never creaking the rotting floorboards, her slippered feet never stirring the thick layers of dust, her shallow breathing not even a whisper in the stillness of the night – the boy in the corner looked up. Perhaps it was the chill wind that had invaded the room, or perhaps it was the eerie silence that had seemed to stifle the happy sounds of his game. Whatever the reason, the boy smiled vaguely at the sight of the lady in the long, white robe.

He watched as the lady stood up from the remains of the crib and drifted over to the bed along the other wall. The bed's coverings and mattress were long gone; the skeleton of the bed frame the only thing left to loom eerily in the night-shrouded room. She paused in front of the bed, gazing sorrowfully down at the time-worm object. In her eyes, the bed was not a collection of metal braces that had been lost to time. It was a child's bed, covered in a soft, hand-made quilt, a down pillow plopped at one end, the metal burnished to shine even at night. She smiled down at a child only she could see, reaching out to pull the quilt up around the child's shoulders.

The boy in the corner set down his game, the LCD screen lighting up the area around him. He picked up a long, narrow tube with antenna coming out of the end and pointed it in her direction. His face took on an odd, green cast as the tube's screen momentarily lit up, displaying the results of the scan. Carefully, he set the tube back down and turned to watch the lady in white continue her routine.

A morose smile crossed his face as the woman moved from her eldest child's bed to the delicate crib that had once held her youngest. She leaned over the dust enveloped object, her ancient eyes taking in the sleeping form of the tiny infant. Silently, her mouth moved, an archaic lullaby being sung unheard to a baby that no longer existed.

Slowly she reached into the cradle, picking up her bundle of life. To the boy in the corner, it looked as though the lady hadn't picked up anything, but he said nothing as she rocked the armful of air back and forth, her mouth moving steadily in her noiseless melody. She drifted over towards the closed glass doors that lead out to a tiny porch, not noticing the cracks and the grime as she neared.

The boy stood up to follow as she walked straight through the fractured glass, carrying her remembered infant with her to stand by the splintered railing. He carefully pushed open the door, gazing through the opening as the woman waited in the night. She stood there for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels, staring out at a hundred-year-old sky. Stars speckled her vision, a full moon lighting the memory of a forest of trees and a calm lake. The boy, however, could only see the thick clouds and the harsh lines of the modern city.

He waited, silent, as she closed her eyes and leaned over the shattered remains of the railing. The phantom of a smile drifted across her face as a nonexistent wind pushed at her translucent hair. Cradling her beloved child in one arm, she used the other arm to lever herself farther up onto the thin, wood slats.

As if a switch had been thrown, the sound began to drift in on the wind. The boy blinked as he listened to her forgotten lullaby, mixed with a distant laughter. She smiled down at her baby, swiveling around so that she was sitting on the railing facing the nursery doors.

Her laughter died away as an odd look came to her eyes. "Robbie?" her voice whispered, slightly out of sync with the movements of her mouth. "What are you…"

Frozen wind gushed through the ancient lullaby as the woman gasped, her eyes wide. Suddenly, as if she had been pushed by an unseen hand, the lady topped off the third-floor balcony and tumbled out of sight. "No!" her spectral shriek split the air as she plummeted to the ground.

The boy eased out onto the crumbling balcony to look down below. As he had expected, the body of the woman was no where to be seen. He slipped back into the dusty nursery and quickly strode across the room. Shivering as the echoes of her scream pushed at his heart, the boy collected his small collection of belongings and hurried down the stairs.

He pulled out a cell phone as soon as he was out of the crumbling building and quickly dialed a memorized number. "Danny?" he asked, his voice still shaking. "She's just an imprint ghost. There's nothing we can do." Quiet descended on the street as the boy walked down the dark street, listening to his friend.

"Yeah, I know. When they tear down that building to build some new high-rise she won't even notice. She'll haunt the third floor thinking it's still her nursery." He turned around to glance up at the balcony where he had just witnessed the woman's murder. "Poor ghost," he whispered.

Suddenly he blinked and grinned at his phone. "No, that's not what I said. No, it's not." He laughed softly, the last of her deathly chill leaving his soul. "How's the studying going?"

* * *

_"Imprint" Ghosts - ectoplasmic manifestations that are created due to a strong, emotional occurance (ususally death) or an action that has been repeated often enough to create an "imprint" in the area. These imprints cannot interact with people or the true environment - they merely play out the same few seconds of time every time they appear. They never deviate. Imprint ghosts encompass most of the "real life" ghost hauntings. They are also sometimes called "remnants."_

Written January 28, 2007  
Don't really like the ending... but I can't figure out how to fix it.  
Thanks for reading!


	34. Bane: Swimming with the Fishes

_(dances) I've been searching for this! I thought I lost it!!_

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**Bane  
**_A series of AU oneshots about my favorite character._

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**Swimming with the Fishes**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The anglerfish drifted through the aphobic water, tiny lights shining distantly through the darkness. In the crushing depths of the vast ocean, the fish seemed to be completely alone. Flicking its grey-black tail, the fish pushed through the water unseen. 

Deeper and deeper it dived, uncaring about the pressing blackness or the immense pressure. Tiny, centimeter-long creatures with alien-like glowing lights glimmered in and out of view. But the larger anglerfish didn't pause until it caught the glint of another fish, only slightly smaller than itself.

Suddenly the anglerfish was in predator mode, the strange spine on its head flashing with a bioluminescent light. The anglerfish bobbed up and down in the dark, freezing water, watching as the pipefish drift closer and closer. Almost as if mesmerized by the shimmering glow, the pipefish swam right up to the anglerfish.

Together, the fish hovered in the darkness, illuminated solely by the blue-green lights on both fish. For an eternity they stared at each other: the anglerfish watching the smaller fish carefully; the pipefish hypnotized by the floating, bobbing radiance.

Without warning, the pipefish vanished in a swirl of bloody water. The anglerfish, no longer hungry, began swimming through the lightless water once more. Behind it, the small, glowing creatures attacked the remains of the pipefish – a tiny feast in a dark, barbaric, lifeless world.

The anglerfish dove through the blackness, brushing past a vent gushing boiling-hot water. Just before the fish let its personal flashlight dim and vanish back into the eternal night, the deep ocean ground came into view. Grey and sooty, the ground looked like a foreign planet.

The fish swirled closer to an odd device that was lying, rusting, in the mud. Curious, the anglerfish turned its light back on, examining the alien thing. It was a green and white cylinder, a white cap on one end and a small button about half way down its sides. Covered in dark muck and riddled with cracks, it had obviously been down there for ages.

Drifting closer, the fish bumped the white end of the tube with its nose. Then, deciding it wasn't food or anything else important, the anglerfish's light died. It swam away, already searching for its next meal and forgetting about the strange container.

Left alone, sitting in the complete black, the ancient thermos shivered. One of the cracks grew slightly, the entire device beginning to glow, just like it did every few years when its single occupant grew angry. This time, however, something new happened. With a silent explosion, the cylinder disintegrated.

For the first time in over one hundred years, the young ghost-boy that had terrorized Amity Park was loose.

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Written February 15, 2007  
Creepy...  
Thanks for reading.


	35. Three Months and Counting: Jack

_Part two for your enjoyment..._

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**Three Months and Counting**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Jack

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There are many things that have happened over the past three months that I never would have predicted.

Locked in the lab three months ago, I wouldn't have predicted that I'd never again see my son after his shouted goodbye, late for school yet again. If I had, I would have come upstairs to see him one last time… or at least shouted a goodbye back to him as he raced out the door.

Never in a million years would I have predicted that my open, expressive son could have been keeping such an Earth-shattering secret from me. It took weeks to con his secret out of those two friends and Jazz.

I never would have predicted the pure outpouring of support from the general community after his disappearance. Even before they 'figured out' that Danny might be the infamous Ghost-boy, people would stop us on the street to say how sorry they were. After they finally noticed Phantom's mysterious disappearance and the belated, yet rather obvious connection to our son, the level of support only increased.

The last thing I could have predicted, however, was the phone ringing this morning.

"What?" I barked into the phone, juggling my newest invention from hand to hand. The ectoinhibitor obviously wasn't properly aligned. The not-yet-named invention was sending shocks up my arms and making my fingers tingle.

"Mr. Fenton?"

I glared down at the circuit board. There was the cause of the problem – the wire leading to the transistor way in the back wasn't connected right. I was so busy trying to figure out how to re-solder the darn thing that I missed what the mysterious man on the phone was saying. But something he said caught my attention.

"What?" I asked again, setting the invention down before my almost-numb fingers dropped it.

The man sighed. "This is Edward Lancer, vice-principal at Casper High. You remember me? I used to be Danny's teacher."

So that's what caught my attention. He'd said Danny's name. "Yeah, vaguely," I muttered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," the man said, a smile in his voice.

"Then why are you calling me?" I may be clueless and not good at thinking ahead, but I'm far from stupid. This Lancer fellow was calling me for a reason.

"Your son showed up at school today."

_What?_

"Mr. Fenton?"

_What?! _

"Mr. Fenton?"

_What!!_

"Are you still there?"

That was when it filtered through my head that I hadn't actually spoken. With a startled blink, I took a deep breath. "What?" I whispered. I don't normally classify myself as the whispering type, but I could barely hear my own voice.

"Your son is sitting in my office."

"How?" I breathed.

"He walked into school this morning. Apparently he has no idea what happened… he thought it was still January."

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the earpiece. "Danny." I let the handset clatter to the ground as I pounded into the kitchen. "MADS!"

"What?" She poked her head out of the lab, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead when she saw my white face. "Jack, what's wrong?"

Without saying anything, not really trusting my own voice, I grabbed the keys to the assault vehicle. As I headed out the door, Maddie followed me, a questioning look on her face. She didn't say anything until the engine turned over with its normal sputtering roar. "Jack, what's going on?" She reached over to touch my arm, making me flinch at the unexpected contact.

I glanced at her. "Danny showed up to school today."

She recoiled instantly, yanking her hand back to her chest. Her face instantly drained of color and her breath caught audibly in her throat. I was ripping down the street, but she just stared at me, the corners of her mouth twitching with the barest hints of an ecstatic grin every few houses. "Danny?" she finally queried, setting her hand down in her lap and blinking slowly.

I nodded, silent. The school was impossibly far away – much farther than I ever thought it was. My secretive little son was sitting in an office in that distant building. A place I desperately wanted to be.

"Danny," she whispered, almost like a prayer, her face spreading into a happy smile. Closing her eyes, she leaned back in the assault vehicle's chair and laughed slightly. Then she sent me a short glare that was completely destroyed by the soppy grin crinkling the edges of her eyes. "Why aren't you driving faster, Jack Fenton?"

A small chuckle escaped my lips. My child was safe and going to be back in my arms in just a few minutes. My wife was truly smiling for the first time in months. The world was stitching itself back together before my eyes

We stormed the school, leaving the RV idling in the fire lane. The bald-headed teacher – Lancer, I recalled vaguely – was leaning against the door of his office. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton," he greeted us, holding out his hand.

I was ready to just brush past him into the office where Danny was sitting, but Maddie put her hand on my shoulder. "Mr. Lancer," she said politely, her eyes flickering from the teacher to the closed office door behind him. Neither of us reached out to shake his hand.

"Your son," the overweight teacher hesitated, "is a little 'spazzed' as the kids say. He's confused about what's going on, and more than a little frightened." Finally he let his unshaken hand drop back to his side. "I wanted to stop you before you just rushed in."

Maddie nodded. "We understand." She glanced up at me, giving me a short smile. "We'll keep it toned down, right honey?"

I just blinked at her, not understanding in the slightest. Why were they keeping me from my son? It's a father's job to protect his children. I needed to be in that room with Danny, I needed to know that he's safe.

"We don't want to scare him anymore than he already is," she smiled, tipping her head to the side and sending me a short glare.

Alright, I get it. No overreacting. Now let me have my son back. I nodded shortly, narrowing my eyes and taking a step towards the door. Lancer paled slightly and shifted to the side, out of my way. Some days it pays to be large and ominous-looking.

Without any further delay, I twisted the doorknob. It felt like our phone call had been forever ago, even though only fifteen minutes had really passed. I pushed open the door.

For just a second, I could have sworn I saw my son was sitting in the chair, his wide, blue eyes staring at me.

But the room was empty.

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Written February 20, 2007  
Continued 'cause you asked... part three (Maddie) up soon!  
Thanks for reading. :)


	36. His Own Little World

_I had a frustrating day - thus the ending. I'm sorry! I HATE writing in this style. I hope it turned out okay._

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**His Own Little World**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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The blond-haired boy shivered, surreptitiously pulling his jacket closer to himself. Eyes half-focused on the droning teacher, the self-proclaimed jock leaned back in his desk and let a grin cross his face. Not a second's thought was going towards the medieval English lecture – that much was obvious based on the satisfied smirk spreading across his "all-American" features. Nobody, not even the teacher himself, was enjoying this lecture enough to be smiling about it. 

No, the boy's thoughts were far away. They drifted to tonight's football game – where he often dreamt that someday he would bring his low-rank team to the state finals against all odds – to the tortured events planned for the 'losers' after school. It was Friday. In just a few short hours, it would be the beginning of a weekend. Now _that_ was something to smile about.

The boy shivered more violently, rubbing his hands together under his desk. He glanced around the room, not wanting to be the wimp that complained about the cold when everybody else was fine. He did, after all, have a reputation to uphold. But his plans of remaining quiet shattered when he noticed that the entire class, with the exception of one loser sleeping in the back row, was also shivering. With a quick flip of his thoughts, the young junior-varsity quarterback went from worrying about being a wimp to becoming the class savior.

"Mr. Lancer!" he shouted, standing up to draw everyone's attention to him. He was about to right a horrendous wrong. A hero's move, not unlike those of the town's spectral defender.

"Mr. Baxter?" the balding teacher asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at the disruption of his still-waxing speech. The boy paled slightly. Even with his 'free pass' as a star quarterback, this was not a teacher to mess with. Lancer's punishments were… creative at times. He'd once made the loser trio clean the entire school with their _hands_.

However, his boyish features took on a more stern appearance as the boy decided to stay his course. "It's freezing in here. Turn up the heat." He meant that last sentence to be a command, to show the class that he was powerful and in charge, but his voice squeaked at the end, turning the command rather vaguely into a question.

Wrinkled eyes narrowed further. "For your information, the thermometer is set up as high as it will go. The heat is on full blast."

"But we're cold." The boy was working hard to keep his voice from trembling. The teacher was just supposed to agree with him and turn the temperature up… not actually come back with a good excuse. His mind started to work as he fought to create a new plan of action. Just sitting down was not going to work.

"I realize that, Mr. Baxter," the teacher sighed, "I'm cold as well. It _was_ rather warm in here last period; I don't know what's wrong. Now. _Sit down._" The stern command was accompanied with a glare that not even football jocks had the desire to ignore.

The boy, having clearly lost his fight, sank back into his seat, but not before noticing that the loser goth-girl in the back was poking the sleeping student with her pencil and hissing his name. The light-haired jock was mildly impressed. He was a pro-rate sleeper, but lately he'd noticed that the loser could sleep through anything… including being stabbed repeatedly with a pencil. Not that he would ever _admit_ to being impressed.

Instantly tuning out the once-again lecturing voice in the front of the room, he turned his head to subtly watch the unfolding drama in the back of the classroom. The goth had her hand on the loser's shoulder, shaking him. The techno-loser was joining in now, leaning dangerously out of his seat to prod the black-haired boy with an outstretched PDA.

The jock shivered, the temperature of the room plummeting once more. He could almost see his breath in the chill air. A flash of electricity blazed invisibly through the room, shocking all the students and making everybody's hair stand on end. Overhead, all the lights popped and went out, plunging the room into a shrouded darkness. The only light was coming from the small windows off to their right.

Finally, the over-weight and slightly dense teacher stuttered to a stop, glancing around the room suspiciously. The boy joined him in searching the room. He had lived in Amity Park for years… he knew the feeling of a powerful ghost: the plunging temperatures, the sudden burst of static, the dark, pervasive feeling of the shadows. There was a ghost. A powerful ghost. A very powerful and very _close_ ghost. Despite his claim as a powerful and fearless jock, the boy tensed and sank down into his chair. Perhaps the ghost would attack the losers instead.

Suddenly, the loser in the back cried out in his sleep, his two friends seeming to be pushed away from him. He shouted, hands balling into fists, a tortured expression crossing his slumbering features. In the dim light, the loser almost seemed to be glowing, an aura of greenish power building up around him.

The jock stumbled to his feet, a half-thought to get away from the sleeping student passing through his mind. He wasn't too sure what was going on, but when in Amity Park, smart people tended to avoid things that were strange and unexplainable. He had just gotten to his feet – which was probably what saved him – when the loser screamed.

A wave of energy boiled off the loser, blasting through the classroom. It picked up anything in its path: desks, students, teachers… and flung them away from him. The jock, out of his seat, smashed up against the piles of desks. Other students were trapped in the rubble, screaming in terror and shrieking in pain. The jock curled up into a ball, fragments of tile cascading off the ceiling to strike his bruised form.

When he finally looked up, he took in the devastation with a single glance. Windows were smashed, the backboard was shattered on the ground, bits of the ceiling were dangling dangerously, every piece of furniture was now twisted firewood, and students were cowering against the burned walls, pressing bloody hands against gashes and broken limbs. But the jock's eyes were not for the horrifying destruction surrounding him. He was staring at the one thing that had survived the attack unscathed: the loser, still sleeping in his desk.

Black hair tousled and disheveled, the boy pressed his hands against his head, groaning in pain and nightmare-driven fear. "Stay away from me," the jock heard him moan. "Stay away."

The goth-girl was struggling against the wreckage that was pinning her to the wall. "Danny!" she yelled. "Wake up!"

The jock shook his head in wonderment. How could the loser _still_ be sleeping? However, the boy stopped his shaking as a new thought crossed his quick mind. The energy had come _from_ the loser. Thus this chaos was the _loser_'s fault.

But how? Puzzled, the jock continued to watch the loser writhe in his seat, tears leaking from his eyes. What was he… possessed?

"Daniel Fenton!" the teacher bellowed as he pushed himself to his feet. Blood trickled out of a slice on his forehead and a length of wooden shrapnel stuck out of his arm. Lancer pressed his hand around the remains of the chair, trying to slow the bleeding. Slowly, the teacher began to stumble towards the center of the room, his steps uneasy and dizzy. "Daniel!" Finally, he released his broken arm to shake the loser's shoulder.

"No!" The loser shouted, his head coming up. His eyes opened, but his gaze was unfocused and dreamy – the loser not anywhere near awake. The jock quivered, pressing harder against the wall, every thought of trying to appear brave disintegrating from his mind. The loser's eyes weren't their normal, timid-looking blue. They were an eerie, vaguely scary, glowing green.

"Stay away from me, Plasmius," the loser seethed, disintegrating his desk in a blast of emerald power. Students shrieked and cowered as the splinters flew in every direction to imbed themselves in the walls and any person in the way. Lancer winced, bits of wood slicing through his bruising skin. The jock covered his head, feeling the sharp shrapnel pierce his thick letter jacket. By the time he looked up again, the loser was standing amongst the remains of his desk, glaring sleepily at the teacher. "I'm not your little pawn."

"Danie…" the teacher started.

"Don't call him that!" the techno-loser interrupted, pushing futilely at the remnants of the desks holding him down. "That's what Plasmius calls him."

The goth jumped in. "Danny! Wake up!" She struggled harder against the rubble keeping her in place, but it was to no avail.

The loser never even glanced away. He kept his unfocused eyes trained on the balding teacher, taking a menacing step forwards. Grinning sleepily as Lancer backpedaled, green light flared around the loser's clenched hands. "Stay _away_ from me," he hissed.

Still shivering against the wall, the jock could not tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him. Only dimly did he take in the pain-filled moans and groans of the students around him that were still trapped in the ruined classroom. He stared at the loser advancing towards his teacher, unable to breathe, his heart pounding in his ears, his hands pulled defensively in towards his chest.

"I will _never_ bow to you," the loser snarled, jumping easily over a large bit of ceiling that littered the ground.

"Danny!" the goth shrieked as the loser suddenly lunged for Lancer, her breath pluming in the freezing air. The overweight teacher stumbled and fell heavily on his back, an unstoppable yell of pain slipping from his lips when his mangled arm hit the ground. The loser straddled the teacher, his feet planted firmly on either side of Lancer's waist, glowing fists held ready-to-strike.

The jock blinked as a hastily-thrown notebook flew through the air towards the loser's head. He was about to smile at the tactic, but the loser simply caught the paper in one hand. Within seconds, the flaming energy of the loser's fists disintegrated the notebook to ash. "Your stupid vultures can't beat me," the loser muttered darkly.

The loser raised his hand, supernaturally lit eyes flaring brighter, a ball of energy forming. It glowed like a small sun, casting creepy, green shadows harshly against the wall. "You won't ever bother me again," the loser vowed.

Still unable to breathe, staring at the loser's unfocused and spectral gaze, the jock pressed his hands into his ears. He curled up into a ball, turning his head away from the scene and, finally, was able to shut his eyes. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to see what was going to happen.

Locking himself into his own little world, the jock only heard one other thing.

The goth-girl, screaming.

"Danny! NOOOOOOOO!"

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Written February 22, 2007  
This has been stuck in my head for weeks. Glad it's out!  
Thanks for reading.


	37. Three Months and Counting: Maddie

_Part three... Man. I've wasted my ENTIRE Saturday._

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**Three Months and Counting  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Maddie

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My son was the ghost-boy. 

My son was a hero.

Somehow, when I finally found out he was the ghost we had been hunting, I wasn't nearly as surprised as I should have been. Somewhere, deep down inside of me, I had known. It made sense and it explained so much. I never questioned it for a second.

It hurt so much having my little boy taken from me. I never could tell him how proud of him I was. I was never able to tell him I was sorry.

As January turned to February, I slowly fell out of the fog that had enveloped my mind. There was no sign of Danny anywhere, no clues, no nothing. He was declared dead… we had a funeral… and still he stayed away. Bit by bit, my boy vanished from my everyday life. It came to the point where I could go for hours without thinking of him and where he might be. As painful as it was, this losing of my child, it was also a relief. I was moving on with my life.

March was roaring in when I finally cleaned out his room. So much dust had collected on his stuff. Danny's things went into a few boxes in the attic, mostly stuff I wanted to keep to remember him by, but a few thoughts as to what he would want if he came back to us. At first it ached every time I walked past his empty room, but even that feeling faded. Finally, I made it through a day without my missing son disrupting my thoughts.

Then came the day when the phone rang and my carefully reconstructed world crumbled.

"Danny," I whispered as Jack pushed open the door to the vice-principal's office. Mr. Lancer was watching me, concern in his eyes. Jack stood in the doorway, not moving. "Jack," I said, pushing against his shoulder. Still he didn't move.

When he turned around, I saw the heartbreak in his eyes. I _knew_ the room was empty. "Danny," Jack muttered brokenly, his hands hanging disconsolately by his sides. I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a hug, hiding my own pain-filled face. He patted my back emotionlessly a few times, then pushed me away. "I'll be in the RV," he said softly and wandered down the hall.

I watched him go, shaking my head sadly. As much as it hurt me for my son to not be there, to still be gone, I knew it had to be worse for Jack. He had never truly gotten over Danny's disappearance and had been strongly against cleaning out his room a few weeks ago. Jack still woke up every day hoping that our child would walk through the front door. He never said anything, but I knew him – he wore his thin-skinned emotions on his sleeve. This would break his heart all over again.

Mr. Lancer was looking in his room, confusion on his face. "I don't understand," the man murmured, glancing back at me. "He _was_ here."

I walked into the room and sighed, examining the empty room. Struggling with the thick mist that was attempting to trap my mind, I tried to figure this out. I did believe the teacher; he really thought that Danny had been here. So either the man had been hallucinating or _something_ had really been here.

Almost without thinking, I pulled the portable ghost tracker out of my belt and switched it on. It beeped softly, sending back an image of ectoplasmic emotional energies. The room seemed to glow and shine on the screen, items that people had strong emotional attachments to glowing brighter than the more average items. In the center of the room, the simple chair that was set up facing the vice-principal's desk was shimmering like a small star. I strode up to the chair, carefully scanning it.

"Mrs. Fenton?" the teacher asked, wrinkling his forehead. "What's going on?"

I slowly switched off the tracker and put it back in my belt pouch, staring at the chair, my thoughts sputtering and drifting. "There was a ghost sitting in this chair," I whispered. At least, I think I whispered it. It might not have actually made it past my lips.

"What?"

"There was a _ghost_ sitting in this chair," I said again, a bit louder.

Mr. Lancer nodded absently. "Yes, _Danny_ was here."

I bit my lip, shaking my thoughts straight. "I'm not sure…" I trailed off, gazing around the room, refusing to meet his gaze, trying to fight the emotions that were flooding through me. "I'm not sure a half-ghost could create that much spectral energy…"

"What do you mean?" he asked softly.

Turning, I walked out of the room, ignoring the teacher. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. After a moment, I slid down the wall and let my head thump back against the hard tile, tears glistening in my eyes. There was no way a half-ghost, half-human could generate that quantity of energy in that chair. The only thing that could would be an actual ghost.

The tear that had threatened escaped my eye and raced down my cheek. This was the worst scenario I could possibly imagine. My son wasn't alive, the pain of that realization stabbing into me like a horde of hornets. Danny was a ghost, one of my spectral foes, his personality twisted and corrupted to the point where I would have to hunt him. Maybe not yet, but soon he would begin to feed off of emotions and would start to scare humans in an attempt to get that energy.

With a sinking stomach, I realized that maybe he had already reached that level. Fear and terror are not the only emotions ghosts feed upon. Many ghosts, such as that psychologist ghost, lean more towards despair and depression.

A sad smile flickered across my face. If I was right, between Jack and me, Danny was probably feeding quite well right now. My son was always smart; this was a genius plan.

The bell rang and a herd of students flooded into the hall, so wrapped up in their high school lives that few of them even glanced in my direction. I waited for the halls to clear out, only a few stragglers meandering towards their classrooms, before standing up and heading outside.

As I paced towards the door, I readied myself for what was coming.

Tonight would be my last hunt.

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Written March 3, 2007  
Coming soon... part four...  
Thanks for reading!


	38. Splinters: Gory

_Hm... (smiles) You don't have to have read 'Pits' for this to make sense! Although, it's not really worth reading if you have no idea who the characters are. (evil grin) Perhaps you should go read it. (shameless plug)_

_This does have multiple parts, but I can't (read: won't) load up the rest until the next chapter of 'Pits' goes up. _

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**Splinters  
**_The untold stories behind the 'Pits.'_

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**Gory  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Gory climbed up to the top bunk and collapsed with a sigh. He laced his fingers behind his head and let his eyes flutter closed, contemplating his day. He'd been sent home from school early again, something about getting into a fight. 

A smile flickered across his lips at the memory of the blood dripping from that idiot's nose. Everything had been piling up on him, all of his troubles and frustrations, and that prejudiced moron had been the last straw. He just couldn't take it anymore, and he'd snapped. _Although_, he sighed, _punching a teacher was probably a stupendously bad idea._

Gregory Whiten shook his head, letting his thoughts and aggravations trickle out of his fourteen-year-old mind. His foster mother had been so disappointed, staring at him with her wrinkled, clear blue eyes as they sat in the principal's office. She hadn't said much to him since picking him up at school and sending him to his room, just the usual sigh and her "catch-phrase." _"You don't act like a Gregory," she would always say and then she would tip her head to the side send him a sad smile. "You don't act much like a Greg either, child. Why can't you live up to your name?"_

The lights flickered from behind his closed eyes. Gory rolled over and glanced at the door, scowling at the thin four-year-old standing in the doorway with his fingers still on the light switch. The kid brought one hand up to his mouth in an 'L' shape and tapped his lips a few times, badly miming eating. "_Lunch." _Gory nodded, rolling off the bed and landing on the ground in a crouch. By the time he'd pushed himself to his feet, the kid was gone.

He trailed downstairs, lightly biting his tongue in a syncopated rhythm with his steady footsteps, adding in a lightly tapped melody on the stair railing. Since it was the middle of a school day, the normal rabble would be missing from the table. It'd be just the kid, María, the dog, and him. It was almost too bad that he was here because he'd gotten into trouble. Otherwise, he might have been part of the conversation for once.

Gory paused in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. The kid's mouth was moving a thousand miles an hour, María smiling down at him and laughing. She glanced up, sending him that patented tipped-head-combined-with-sad-smile look. She raised one finger, her other hand curling into a cup-shape, then she put her finger into the cup like a hot dog being placed in a bun. "_Hot dogs for lunch_." She sent a little wave in the direction of the stove, picking up her own plate and heading for the table. "_Feed yourself."_

He snuck a glance in the pot of hot water, then fished out a hot dog and grabbed a bun. After piling it high with mustard and pickles, he slid over to the table and took the seat between the kid and the dog. María's brown Great Dane had eaten at the table with them since he taught her how to eat off a plate six years ago. He ruffled her ears, putting off the inevitable just a moment longer.

He caught María's almost-white eyes and made a fist with his hand, rubbing it in circles over his heart. She shook her head and raised her hands, gesturing a very hated sign. "_Talk."_ Gory leaned back in his chair, containing the scowl. He moved his mouth, forcing air through his throat. "Sorry," he whispered.

María smiled. _"Eat,_" she signed, tapping her fingers against her mouth and picking up her own hot dog. The kid's mouth was still motoring right along, having missed their conversation completely, and María turned her attention back to him. Gory grinned into his hot dog as he took a bite. He was safe from the kid's endless ramblings – it was one of the good points of being deaf.

His foster mother shot him a glance at the end of the meal, raising an eyebrow and sending him a half-smile. The kid was in a full-blown reproduction of something had happened during morning preschool. Gory shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes. María picked up her plate with one hand, then used her other hand to touch her chin and forehead with her thumb. _"Parents."_

Gory felt his stomach drop. He _hated_ it when people came here to look at them and decide if they wanted to adopt anybody. As the damaged troublemaker, his chances of ever getting adopted were nil. He was in the system for good. Gory tapped his wrist, asking a silent question. _"When?"_

She held up one finger, then spun her hand in a circle like a clock. _"One hour_." María grinned at him, set her plate down in the sink, and turned to him. She rubbed her hands together, then mimed wiping her nose. _"Clean the kid up_."

He glanced over his shoulder, the kid was still deep in his pantomime, his mouth running like an out-of-control locomotive. He laughed silently, shaking his head. He pointed at María, then to his open hand, then to himself. _"You owe me."_

The old woman just raised one eyebrow, staring him down. Gory leaned back in his chair, the memory of just how much trouble he was in crashing back into his brain. _"Fine,"_ he signed, tapping his chest with his spread fingers. He snatched his plate, dropped it into the sink, and then turned back to the motor-mouth. He swooped in, snatching the kid in mid-fake punch, and dumped him over his shoulder. Gory headed out of the room, the kid kicking and hitting to get out of his grasp. "Come on," he slurred, "time for bath."

Without setting the kid down, Gory grabbed a change of clothes for both him and the kid and stormed into the bathroom. Carefully locking the door behind him and setting the clothes on a high, dry shelf, he finally set the kid down. Gory grinned at the red, angry look on the kid's face. Now able to see, the kid furiously snapped his fingers closed. _"No, no, no, no, no!"_ punctuated by the movements of his lips.

"Yes," Gory said, wincing at the fuming look on the kid's face. This was not going to be easy. "Tell you what," he mumbled, trying to speak clearly. "I'll play a game if you take a bath."

The kid seemed to think about that. Then he pushed his hands up and down, alternating. _"Which one?"_

Gory shrugged. "Don't care."

Little fingers flashed as he finger-spelled the worst game on the planet. Gory shut his eyes half-way through, rubbing his temples. Was it worth it? With a groan, he flicked his fingers in an _"OK"_ sign. Grinning, the kid yanked his clothes off, watching carefully as Gory started the water for the bath. "Keep the water in the tub this time, kid," he slurred as the kid climbed in.

Twenty-three minutes, seven gallons of water, three towels, and a change of clothes later, Gory kicked the mostly-clean and mostly-dry kid out of the bathroom. He grabbed the soaking towels, wondering to himself whether there had been more water _in_ the tub or _out_ of the tub by the end, and dropped them in the laundry basket.

Shaking wet hair out of his eyes, he wandered back to his room to take a nap. There was always the half-hope that María would forget he was here when those prospective parents arrived. They were probably here to look at the kid anyway – Gory wouldn't have normally been home from school. Closing his eyes, he listened to the eternal silence that shrouded his mind.

Lights flickered. Gory rolled over and stared into María's white eyes. "_The Former's are here._"

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Written March 4, 2007  
I wasted three hours last night staring at nothing.  
Thanks for reading!


	39. Graveside Contemplations

_(sniffle) (sniffle) (cry) This popped into my head about half-hour ago. Oh - how tortured my mind be._

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**Graveside Contemplations**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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A mother sat in the still darkness of the night, staring vacantly at the tombstone of her only son. She hadn't moved in hours, her eyes never wavering from the flowing lines of text on the dark stone. Alone, she contemplated the misery of what had happened. 

A form shimmered into view, standing beside her, head tipped as he gazed at the tombstone as well. The boy's sharp, white hair tousled in a slight breeze as he crossed his legs and sank to the damp ground. Silent time stretched between them – the ghost and his hunter – before either spoke. "It's a strange feeling, being dead," the ghost whispered.

The mother turned her dazed expression to the boy. For the first time, her eyes were clear of the almost-hatred she had held for the ghost. "What?" she breathed.

Their voices were soft, barely disturbing the echoing quiet of the full moon as it shone down silvery against the land. "Being dead. I never expected it to feel like this." A small smile filtered onto his face. "You'd think I would have known, but I didn't."

"What's it like?" her gazed drifted back to the only physical remnant of her son.

"Distant," the ghost murmured. "You can still feel, you still understand, but it's like your emotions are a hundred miles away. There is a rift between you and your life."

She bit her lip. "You stop caring?"

"No," he sighed, "never. But it's more like watching someone _else_ care, and knowing you should care too."

They were silent, watching the shadows from the tree play across the black stone, small sparkles dancing like stars. It was a comfortable stillness, a peace extended between hunter and prey.

"Is my son a ghost?" she finally asked, her voice breaking.

The ghost turned to look at her, green eyes sparkling softly. "Yes."

A tear crept out of her eye and was left alone as it trickled swiftly down her cheek. The ghost reached forward, a cold finger brushing the wetness from her face. "Don't cry," he whispered, "he's fine."

The mother looked away from him, the ache in her stomach nearly unbearable. "Will he come to see me?"

"No." The answer, though short and definite, was filled with compassion.

"Why not?"

There was an impossible question to answer, and they both knew it. The ghost gazed at the tombstone, waiting for a dozen breaths to speak. "Most ghosts never leave the ghost zone." His voice was incredibly soft, yet it carried perfectly in the almost-still night. "We _belong_ there."

She nodded absently, turning her pain filled eyes to his. "You left."

"My only tie to the human world is gone," the specter nodded at the dark stone, the sparkle leaving his eyes for a moment. "Tonight I'm going back to the ghost zone and staying there – where I belong."

"What will you do?"

Emerald eyes smiled at her. "Sit around for an eternity, contemplating all the 'what-ifs' and 'might-have-beens' like a good ghost."

"Won't you ever come back?"

"Probably not. But perhaps someday, when everyone I know is gone. Come back to see what has changed and what has stayed the same, come back to see how time has passed me by. If I ever do, it will be far in the future – not in your lifetime, I'm sure."

The mother sat still, her eyes begging the ghost for more.

"Your son understands. Ghosts belong in the ghost zone, not torturing the loved ones they've left behind. He's got a new life and needs to leave his old one behind."

"I just wanted to say goodbye," she whispered brokenly, turning away as tears flowed unchecked once more.

"We all just want to say goodbye," the phantom murmured, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging his legs tightly. "But we never get to, not the way we want to." He stared at the back of the mother's head for the longest time, pain filling his expression while she could not see.

By the time she turned back around, wiping her face dry, he was calm and collected once more. Together they sat, sharing the night, listening to the blessed silence of the graveyard.

"Will you see him?"

The ghost nodded, his white hair flopping into his eyes.

"Can you give him a message?"

"Definitely." His electric eyes were serious as he turned to look at her.

"Would you tell him I loved him… and that I miss him?"

A smile crossed his face, his eyes sparkling with starlight. "Of course," he murmured. "But I'm sure he knew that already."

"I'd feel better if I knew for sure."

"I'll tell him," the ghost whispered. "I'm sure he loves you too."

"I know," the longing in her voice making her words hard to hear. "But I miss him so much."

Around the pair, the world moved, its heart beating in time to an unheard rhythm. Thrust out of step, the ghost waited in silence, a lone castaway in the land of the living. He watched the mother, a distant echo of her longing showing on his face. Slowly, he tore himself away from her, the aching desire to live – if only for a moment longer – retreating back behind the remote façade of the dead.

He rocked himself onto his toes, reaching forwards to trace the name carved on the stone with one chilled finger. "You know, he died a hero."

"A hero?" she repeated softly.

"He gave his life doing what was right. You shouldn't grieve for him." The specter smiled sadly, his fingers drifting over the name once more, setting it into his mind for the rest of time. "He saved hundreds of people by sacrificing his life."

"He shouldn't have had to." Her voice was hoarse, raw, and trembling.

"But he did." A small sigh escaped his lips. "He _chose_ to save those people, knowing the risks, fully aware he might not live through it."

The mother sniffled, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. "He died," she mumbled.

"Yes, but he knew it was worth it. The people he loved more than anything are still alive because of what he did." He was silent, glancing over his shoulder at her. "He never regretted it for a moment, never looked back, never would have made any other choice. Your son was a hero, through and through. He died doing what he knew needed to be done, he wouldn't want you to suffer now."

"I can't help it," she whispered, "my son is dead."

"But _you_ are alive." He leaned back onto his heels, head down, his face hidden by a cascade of muddled hair. "And that's what matters."

"I disagree," she breathed, letting the silence descend around them once more, wrapping them up in a dark cloak of tranquility.

"I have to go," the ghost finally whispered, breaking the silence, his voice sad.

The mother smiled faintly. "Until we meet again, then."

The phantom stood up, holding out his hand to shake. "You won't ever see me again." When she grasped his cold hand, he smiled, a cool tear trickling out of his eye as his distant expression crumbled for a second. "Goodbye."

And so they stood, mother and son, hands clasped over the grave, moonlight shining around them. For an eternal heartbeat, time stood still in the graveyard, a silent homage to a young hero.

And then Danny Phantom, champion of Amity Park, vanished – never to be seen again.

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Written March 9, 2007  
I'm crying at my own work! Gah! I need to stop this. Write something _happy_!  
Thanks for reading.


	40. Brother's Cairn

_I don't know... (sigh) I'm so kind as to answer your question before you ask. _

_Say it with me... "Stupid Plot Bunny!" Acutally, this is all Nonamei's fault - she got me in on this 'super-powerful group of beings attacking' mode, and then my friend 'D' (who thinks the internet is evil incarnite) was on her morbid track and rambling... and we get this._

_Watch it - it's a 'T' shot. Some stuff not suitable for younger readers._

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**Brother's Cairn**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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There really was no question where they came from. Anybody that had heard the ancient stories could tell you. They came from the Brother's Cairn. 

It wasn't really a cairn in truth; it was more a collection of stones that had once been in the vague shape of a wall. The protective wall, built so many years ago, had since crumbled, only small sections still remaining. One such lingering section was known widely as the Bloody Stones. This almost sacred section of cobbled stones was said to contain more blood and bones than mortar and rock, the red liquid having long since soaked in to the very hearts of the stones, staining them crimson. Any flower that bloomed from the base of the stony pile would inevitably turn out to blossom in one of the various shades of blood – darker and clotted or brighter and fresh. The wall would even cry blood-red tears, the rain seeping into the depths of the forbidden structure and taking on the colorful, scarlet hue.

Before the wall had deteriorated to its current condition, this particular section of wall had been given a rather dubious honor. Enemies' heads – after having been separated from shoulders via often blunt axes – would be posted on the top of the wall for all to see, left to slowly disintegrate in the hot summer air. Birds would peck at the softer, rancid flesh, bugs would infest the interior bits, slowly decomposing the smelly, bloody mass. Given enough time, only the skull would remain perched on the stake upon the wall. Strong winds would blow in storms, washing the hundreds of skulls clean and white, tossing the decrepit bones like wind chimes. Children would huddle in fear of the rattling sounds of the skulls, waiting in horror for the headless specters to march in through shadowed doorways to eek their revenge.

For a hundred years the Bloody Stones were silent, their bloody past hidden in dark night stories and murmured rumors. Slowly the stones faded out of the minds of the people living nearby. The wall became a ruin, which became the so-called cairn, a place of beauty, a place of rest. Of all the things in the citizen's town to fear, the pile of stones – even with its eerie flowers and red-dyed rain – was far from their thoughts.

So when the day came that the people awakened to a small rain storm, they never questioned it. Even when the haunting sounds of clicking bones and chattering skulls filtered into every corner of their lovely city, they did not pause in their lives. They gave not a thought to what should have been their worst nightmare.

The headless men had finally arrived, stepping out of the shadows, their spirits aching for revenge.

And there was only one person standing in their way.

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Written March 15, 2007  
I kinda like it actually... needs a better intro than this though...  
Thanks for reading!


	41. Descent

_Practicing being evil. :) Ignore me… _

_Another 'T' oneshot. Read with caution.

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**Descent  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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He opened his eyes, staring down at the scene below him. Scarlet fire sparkled over the screaming people, burning and freezing in turns. Huge sections of walls and ceiling tumbled down from their lofty perches to impact in bloody spurts upon the carefully tiled floor. In a daze, he rolled onto his back, pushing himself up unsteadily on his rafter roost. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he let his gaze trail over the dying humans and smoke-filled mall, coming to rest on an innocuous-seeming small form. 

The tiny young woman stood about twenty feet above the ground, her arms flung out in ecstasy as the terrified emotions of the patrons streamed through the air in almost visible waves. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted in a satisfied smile, her body loose and relaxed. Leisurely, she let her ruby eyes drift open and glance over at him, the happy grin never leaving her face.

He narrowed his eyes, clambering to his feet. Swaying dizzily, he stood still, listening to the death screams below him, his emerald eyes never leaving the female ghost. A painful gasp escaped his mouth and he clutched at the deep gash in his side. "You can't win," he rasped, doubling up and feeling his knees tremble and almost give way.

She laughed happily, her eyes sparkling in the flames. "How do you expect to beat me?" With a twirl, her skirt fluttering out around her like bloody demon's wings, she gestured to the frightened humans huddling against walls, coughing in the smoke. "I have all of their energy to waste. You don't."

"I will win," he coughed, falling from his resting place and hovering precariously in the air.

"You can't lay a hand on me, ghost-child," she whispered. With a swirl of long skirts and a flash of crimson fire she was gone, off to terrorize and destroy. New screams of panic began to filter through the crackling mall air.

The white-haired ghost dropped the rest of the way to the ground, spicy green ectoplasm bubbling out of his side and speckling the floor every time he coughed. He bit back a scream of agony, choosing instead to spit out a mouthful of the peppery blood. Kneeling painfully on the floor, he closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do next.

"Do something, Phantom," a voice murmured. The ghost-boy opened his eyes, glancing at a dying woman lying beside him. Her eyes were glazed and half-dead, the broken pile of wall hiding everything but her head, shoulder, and one arm. Again the woman's voice floated through the mall's ambient shrieks and sizzling, "Save them…"

The boy reached over, touching the woman's warm cheek – but she was already gone, her spirit fleeing from the battered and shattered body. "How?" he cried.

For a few breaths, he stared into her unfocused brown eyes, almost in disbelief at her demise. "How?" he repeated softly, leaning closer as if to hear her answer. "I don't have any energy. How can I beat her?"

The malicious ghost's voice wafted through the air once more, merely an echo of what she had already said. _I have all their energy to waste…_

"I can't," he sobbed, curling around the deep wound in his side, his hair brushing the ground. "No… I can't."

A new round of screams brought his head up, his jade eyes fixing on a horrible sight. The female ghost was back, her blood-red eyes gleaming in delight, holding two young children up in the air by their ankles. She laughed in pleasure at the waves of terror brushing into her mind, giving the two kids playful shakes now and again.

"Put them down," he ordered, his voice coming out broken and quiet.

But she heard him. Her eyes twisted around to stare at him, focus on him, her contented smile growing. "Make me," she purred, tossing one of the boys up into the air and catching him at the last moment, the child's face inches from the ground. The child shrieked in raw panic, sobbing painfully in the smoky air.

The boy faltered, unable to even stand, much less fight. _I need energy_. His eyes stayed on the children, watching the tears stream down their faces. _I need to do something_. "Let them go," he mumbled again, his mind racing for options.

She grinned – each of her perfect teeth shining in the firelight. "No," she said slowly.

His gaze fell on the group of humans huddled against the wall, staring up at the ghost in dread and fear. One of them glanced over at him, her face screaming for him to do something… to do anything. _I need energy._ A tear trickled out of his eyes as he closed them, letting his chin drop to his chest. _Forgive me._

For the first time he let the gates to his spectral mind open, the flood of human emotions swirling through him, energy fizzling through his every molecule. He took a deep breath as the feelings sorted themselves out, and then he felt it.

Terror. Sticky-sweet, it caressed his mind gently, painfully pleasant. It flowed through him, swirling up his nose in an irresistible aroma, his mouth watering at the alluring taste. Instantly he relaxed, his worries and cares drifting out of his mind at the torrent of bliss.

Pupils dilated, a cocky and satisfied grin unconsciously flitting across his face, he gazed leisurely up at the ghost. "Put them down," he commanded. Emerald energy, powered by the humans' fear, swirled around him like a tiny whirlwind, brushing bits of debris out of his way. With barely a thought he was in the air, unbridled power smoking from his fingertips, paranormal lightning dancing along his arm. The deep wound in his side was long forgotten.

Her ruby eyes lost their arrogant gleam almost instantly. For a moment, she contemplated the ghost-boy and his powerful stance. "Catch," she snarled suddenly, tossing the children into the air and racing in the other direction.

He moved, snatching the two boys – one around the waist and the other by a wrist – before they could hit anything. As soon as his fingers closed around their fragile, human bodies, their emotions rolled into him like never before. Clean, unfiltered, and untainted by age, the kids' terror seared through his mind. Almost dropping the boys in surprise at the intoxicating bubbles of delight bursting inside of him, he quickly settled onto the floor and let go, backing away from them, eyes wide. "I've got to..." he trailed off, his thoughts being pushed out of his brain.

Unable to move, unable to tear himself away from the source of the overwhelming energy that was spiking inside of him, he stood still, his eyes fixed on the boys, the female ghost far from his mind. His foot moved of his own accord, sliding forwards, pushing him closer to the enthralling feeling. Another faltering step, eyes burning, and the exhilarating sensation only increased.

But the terror was beginning to fade. The two boys looked at their hero, safety and confidence tainting the sweet taste of fear. The ghost-boy stuttered to a stop, blinking in confusion and pain at the empty feeling that was twisting into his stomach. His mind jerking back into working order, he shook his head to clear it and then took to the skies, searching for the ghost that had started this.

It didn't take long, she hadn't gone far. Floating over a group of frightened humans, she was randomly tossing things in their direction, slowly cranking up the sugary taste of their emotions, delighting in the pristine feeling of their terror.

He raked his fingers through the air, pulling together a glob of tingling energy. It fizzled against his hands like a thousand tiny pinpricks, tickling and painful. Aiming carefully, he sent the blast towards the ghost, grinning when it slammed into her and sent her spinning through the air. "Leave _my_ humans alone," he snapped, chasing after her falling form.

She recovered a few feet from the ground, dodging his wild blasts as she raced through the remains of the mall. Another strike landed, throwing her into the ground. She twisted around in her self-formed crater, snarling and angry, glaring up at the ghost. A small ball of crimson energy formed in her manicured hands.

Before she could shoot it off, the ghost-boy was on her, a green-charged fist punching and catching her on the side of the head. She screeched, dropping to the side and clawing her attacker. He just dodged and sent another blast – close range.

When the smoke cleared, the boy was alone, hovering over the splattered remnants of the ghost. With a sigh, he pulled out a strange thermos-like device and vacuumed up the remains with a flash of blue light. Then, for all intents and purposes, the ethereal hero vanished.

Just outside of the devastation, a black-haired, blue-eyes teenager appeared, a small, enthralled smile still dancing on his face. For a moment he paused, letting the enchanting sensation of the dying humans' terror trickle through him. He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen at the pleasant feeling.

Finally he turned his back on the mall, scanning his surroundings for the familiar form of his best friend. He headed in her direction, but a malicious gleam suddenly appeared in his sapphire eyes. Turning invisible, he snuck up to her, unseen. "Boo!" he yelled, appearing before her in an aura of green, flaming power.

The gothic girl screamed, jumping backwards, her heart pounding. "Jerk," she snarled, glaring at him.

But he wasn't paying any attention. His mind was focused on the wave of terror that had flowed from her, ringing through his addicted mind like a chorus of tiny bells. Laughing in elation, the boy slid his arm around her waist and stood still, watching the chaos and pandemonium of the ruins of the mall, delighting in the waves of fear that still fluttered through the air.

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Written March 17, 2007  
_Evil. I really need more practice with evil – expect to see more! Bwa-hahaha!  
_Thanks for reading!


	42. Jumping to Conclusions

_Um… short… yeah. And… fluffy? Can I even WRITE true fluffiness?_

_Answer: Nope. _

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**Jumping to Conclusions**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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He lay perfectly still on the park's soft grass one evening, the warm breeze blowing his snow-white hair into his eyes. A contented smile drifted onto his face and he let his emerald eyes open to gaze up into the purple-red sky. Dark-grey, smoky clouds raced by, coaxed into a heavenly chase by the hot updrafts, the soft billows and puffs highlighted by fiery reds, oranges, and yellows. 

The boy yawned, his eyes falling back closed for a moment as he stretched his arms over his head in a lazy motion. Tired and sore muscles tingled as they lengthened, glad to be moved. Placing his hands back under his head, he pushed his latest painful headache out of his mind and drifted into simple, happy blackness. For these a few moments he was unbothered, unburdened, and free of trouble. His brain refused to admit that the moment would soon end; all he could do was revel in the relative peace of his mind.

With a serene flick of his head, he tossed the over-long bangs out of his eyes and took a deep breath. The soft scent of charcoal and cooking meat filtered up his nose. A sneeze shook him sharply when a bit of lost ash tickled his nose and he curled up into a small ball, his stomach aching at the sharp exhalation. "Ouch," he laughed softly, rubbing his bruised stomach and ribs.

If only everything else was as peaceful as he was. He sighed, trying his hardest to ignore the yells, moving cars, and the general roar of his not-so-quiet surroundings. Perhaps it was just this headache, but everything seemed so loud. Why couldn't everybody be this tranquil on an idle, warm day?

Finally, with lethargic movements, he pushed himself to his knees, settling back onto his heels. It was time to head home – he was hungry. His sluggish gaze followed a young girl, small backpack held tightly in her hands, racing through the park and passing within a few feet of him. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the thought of hurrying on such a hot and heavy evening, he stumbled to his feet.

One hand came up to brush through his hair, wincing as his fingers touched a large bruise forming just above his left ear. "Stupid," he muttered, "forgot about that." Dazed eyes glanced around as he stretched one more time, suppressing the desire to yawn again. His town stretched out before him, highlighted and sparkling with reds, oranges, and yellows. His mind felt hazy, unable comprehend exactly what he was seeing, but he slowly came to the conclusion that _something_ was wrong.

His forehead wrinkled in bewilderment as he took in the the sights. Towering flames crackled and shrieked like jet engines, the spires of fire jumping into the dark-grey clouds from the tallest buildings. Burning air turning into fiery gusts that carried smoldering ashes for miles. Buildings crumbled onto screaming, fleeing residents, the strong stench of burning flesh and hair drifting through the charred streets.

Two confused, blank eyes traveled over the yelling citizens and wailing sirens to a small figure that seemed to be suspended in the air above all the chaos. Tipping his head to the side, the boy studied the glowing form, his brain distantly trying to decide how somebody could be standing on air like that. A wave of reddish energy flared out of the shape like a bolt of lighting, the resulting explosion startling him into blinking and taking a step backwards.

With a sour groan, he flopped back onto the ground, his unsteady, throbbing mind already having forgotten why he had even gotten up in the first place. He would just have to wait until his headache went away. Then, _maybe_, he'd be able to figure out what was wrong. A mystified look passed through his eyes. Was there something wrong? Closing his eyes, be pushed the stupid idea out of his mind. Of course there was nothing wrong... this was his home, after all.

And so, he continued to lie perfectly still on the park's soft grass, the warm breeze blowing his snow-white hair into his eyes. Another contented smile drifted onto his face and he let his emerald eyes open to gaze, once again, into the purple-red sky. Dark-grey, smoky clouds raced by, coaxed into a heavenly chase by hot updrafts, the soft billows and puffs highlighted by fiery reds, oranges, and yellows.

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Written March 28, 2007  
(grin) Don't go jumping to conclusions on me... (evil laughter)  
Thanks for reading!


	43. Crystals

_I'm trying my hardest to write something fluffy. It's really REALLY HARD! It didn't turn out as well as it possibly could._

_The beginning is kinda boring, but I do like the 'aw...' envoking ending. Worth reading? If you like DxS fluff, I'd say yeah._

_A request story for XxKingdomPhantomXx from DeviantArt. Enjoy!_

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**Snowflakes**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Danny sat in his sophomore English class, staring down at his fingers, a look of intense concentration on his face. He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, down low to the desk. Nobody could see, nobody was watching. After a glance up to check where Mr. Lancer was standing, he focused back onto his fingers. 

_Mind over matter_.

His fingers started to tingle – just like they had fallen asleep and were only now waking up. Tiny, microscopic crystals of ice formed between his tensed fingers, glistening in the harsh, fluorescent lights. There they floated; a simple haze of cold.

_Mind over matter_. _I can do this_.

As he centered his mind, his thoughts coming together, the crystals drifted closer, attaching to each other, growing. Within a heartbeat, a perfect shard of ice hung suspended between his fingertips. Danny grinned, letting a trickle of pride enter his heart, a half-smile creeping onto his lips.

The ice shard, no longer supported by the prickling sapphire energy, started to drop, but Danny quickly brought his fingers together, catching the frozen crystal before it could fall. It had already started to melt, its diamond-sharp edges blurring in the heat.

Then, as he had done a half-dozen times already, he carefully moved his hand up, aiming for the yellowish haystack of hair sitting in front of him. He flicked his fingers, not unlike flipping a paper football, and sent the half-melted bit of ice winging through the air. It liquefied en route and a tiny raindrop splattered against the mat of hair.

He waited patiently, but there was still no response from the jock underneath the blond curls. Danny tapped his fingers against the desk, bored with the unnoticed torture, his eyes wandering the classroom. Ever since Lancer had vetoed doodling earlier in the semester, the students had been forced to find new ways to entertain themselves. More than a few had sunk into a stupor, staring at the clock, watching it tick away the endless seconds until the end of English. Just seeing the dead, almost ghost-like expressions on their faces made Danny shiver. To be on the safe side, he didn't even glance at the clock – it wasn't worth it.

Finally, his mind dangerously close to actually _listening_ to the droning teacher, he focused on his fingers once more. A new ice crystal began to take shape slowly in the stifling classroom heat.

He stared down at the perfect crystal floating between his fingers for the longest time before his cocked his head to the side. Biting his lip, he called that blue tingle back into his hands, watching as the crystal grew and changed. He held back a laugh as the crystal grew devil-like horns, then turned into a tiny puffer fish. With a microscopic flare of power, he sent the crystallic star spinning like a Whirling Dervish.

Stopping the mad twirling after a few moments, he raised an eyebrow, a random thought entering his head. The odd-looking ice shard was so cold that his fingers were sticking to the tiny crystal as he carefully held it. Glancing up at the droning teacher once more, he sank farther down into his chair with a smirk on his face.

Carefully pulling the crystal apart, he let it dissociate into a mist. Then he started to build it back up and left tiny holes and gaps in the structure. The sapphire tingling in his fingers vanished as he let the power die. He examined his creation with a growing feeling of satisfaction, his stomach glowing warmly for a moment.

Hovering serenely between his fingers was a perfect snowflake. The crystal-like structure was delicate and refined, each tiny arm thin and strong. He held it there with his mind, not letting it touch his fingertips, trying to decide what to do with it. Part of his mind wanted to just let it melt… but it was so beautiful…

Drifting peacefully in the mental numbness the monotonous teacher never failed to evoke in his brain, Danny's mind felt free to touch on the only other thing that he had ever seen that was as flawless as this snowflake. Lost in his tranquility, he allowed himself to dwell on the forbidden affection that swirled through his mind like a gentle snowstorm.

No, this snowflake could not be destroyed. It had a much more important destiny. Danny briefly made his other hand burn with azure energy, freezing a small section of the desk. Quickly depositing his first snowflake on the table, he settled down for the long haul.

Nearly an hour later, Danny hadn't listened to a word the overweight teacher had said, but he was getting really good at making snowflakes. Sitting on the cold corner of his desk was a small pile of the white crystals. Each one was different, each one unique, each one beautiful.

"Remember to read chapter eight tonight, we'll be talking about it tomorrow," Mr. Lancer said, his voice raised to catch their attention. Danny looked up, grinning at the statement that signified the end of the class. All around him, students were standing up, collecting bags and shuffling out of class.

Getting to his feet, Danny scooped the snow flakes off his desk with his numb fingers, twisting around to smile at the beautiful Gothic girl standing behind him. He raised his hand to his mouth and blew softly, the flakes swirling into the air and dancing like a tiny snowstorm. They drifted down, coating the lithe figure's loose, black hair and shoulders in a dusting of white crystals.

The girl stood still, startled, as Danny swooped in, his nose inches from hers. He gazed into her eyes, sky blue mixing with amethyst. "You're like a pretty little snow globe, Sammy," he whispered. For a second he held perfectly still, eyes sparkling, before he twisted on his heel and walked out of the room, chuckling softly to himself.

But Sam never moved, blinking in confused amazement, her stunning eyes focused on a lock of hair dangling in her face. Trembling there was a lone snowflake that was stubbornly refusing to melt.

It was in the shape of a heart.

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Written March 29, 2007  
_Aw… (see?) I think I may have pulled it off… (wipes sweat from brow)  
_Thanks for reading!


	44. Silence Unending

_Um... a bit of a story that I'm never going to be able to finish. Enjoy!

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_

**Silence Unending**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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She was so beautiful, laying there, all of her defenses stripped away. A small smile graced her perfect lips, her gorgeous eyes lightly closed, her hands loose and relaxed as they curled over her stomach. I leaned a bit closer, watching her for the longest time, holding my breath. The fragile moment would be gone if I moved, if I breathed, if I let myself think – shattered like delicate crystal. 

The smallest of smiles crossed my face. I haven't really smiled in years; it had been so long since I was happy. Here it was: everything I had ever wanted.

It was finally mine.

Carefully I reached forwards, brushing my fingertips over her smooth skin. I hadn't ever dared to touch her face before. That was sacred ground. Forbidden. Protected. Yet now I was free to trace her silken features with my fingers – no one would stop me.

The love of her life had turned his back on her for the first time in decades. That was nearly a criminal offense; this siren should never be allowed to be alone. I let my fingers trace her flawless lips as I gazed down at her, remembering growing up by her side, entranced by her strong will and individuality. I swore that I would always be by her side. I swore to protect her with all of my abilities. "I promised that so many years ago," I whispered, "and I tried to keep it. You and I were meant to be, my darling, I always knew that. No matter how far you strayed, I watched you. I kept you safe."

Hesitating for just a moment, I leaned over her, tilting my head to brush my lips against hers. I pulled back slightly, letting the scent of her fill my head. She didn't flinch away – she just lay there, quiet and serene, allowing me to drink in her presence. For the first time she was truly _mine_.

Deep in my head, I could hear her voice. She wanted me to come to her; she wanted me to kiss her again. All her follies and mistakes were laid bare, all her desires pouring from her as she begged my forgiveness. She was mine, she always had been, and she always would be.

At least that's what I wanted her to say. But I didn't try to wake her from her tranquil slumber on the satin pillows to hear the longed-for words. Reaching out one last time, I pushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, my fingers lightly gliding over her pale, chill skin. "Maddie, my dearest Maddie," I murmured, "how I have always loved you. I hope you know that."

"Vlad?" The light baritone drifted through the air. I twisted from the striking woman before me to glance at the boy walking into the room. No – he hadn't been a 'boy' in over a decade. This dark-haired young man leaned against the wall with a self-confidence no boy would ever be able to pull off. Compassionate blue eyes watched me, full of wisdom no twenty-four year old should possess.

"Daniel," I greeted him, turning away to stare back down at my love.

Daniel was suddenly at my side, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. He never looked at me once – his whole attention on the beautiful woman lying before us. "Vlad," he said softly, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said shortly, brushing his hand off of my shoulder like I always did. This young man was my rival after all: smart, ruthless, and dangerous. More like me than either of us ever wanted to admit.

But then something different happened. _Something_ inside of me felt like it melted a bit, changed, vanished. I blinked, surprised to find a tear in my eye. _Is the great Vlad Masters crying?_ I chided myself, refusing to acknowledge the wetness trickling down my face. Instead, I fixed my eyes on the peaceful features of the one whom I had always loved.

"She didn't suffer," Daniel said after a moment, an odd lilt to his voice. "The doctors had her on enough medication that she never felt any pain."

The words that came out of my mouth probably startled me more than they startled the younger hybrid. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said without hesitation. I could see his sad smile out of the corner of my eye.

"I wish I could have done more for her." The hair in front of her face was back. My fingers twitched in a desire to move the offending silken strand, but I dared not touch her with Daniel here. He would not appreciate it.

He shrugged in response, tracing the perfect edges of the maple casket with his hands. "You did everything you could, Vlad. You already know I owe you for how much time you gave her. She managed to fight the cancer for two years because of what you did."

"You don't owe me anything," I whispered, finally reaching up to remove the aberrant hair. Daniel tensed, but didn't say anything. For that, I would have given him the world. For a heartbeat I let my fingers rest on her flawless skin before drawing my fingers back to my side. "Where's Jack?"

Daniel was silent for the longest time. "He couldn't come," he finally said.

"He's left her alone?" I snapped, my anger flaring. "He turned his back on her!"

"No, he didn't." His hand was back on my shoulder, twisting me around to face him. "Try and put yourself in my father's shoes for a moment. How would you feel?" His sapphire eyes bored into mine with an abnormal intensity. It wasn't the young man's normal frustrated anger… this was something different. "He can't handle it – not yet. Dad doesn't want to think about the fact that she's not going to come home again."

"He's weak."

"He's grieving. He'll be here."

I stared at him, seeing my own heartache and pain reflected in his expressive expression. For the first time, I was the one to look away, glancing down at my unpolished shoes. There was silence as we stood there, trying to figure out what to say. "Why did you invite me?"

"To her funeral?"

I nodded, looking back up at the self-assured young hybrid, waiting for the answer. When none seemed to be coming, I continued, my voice broken and rasping. "She and Jack hated me after they found out. She refused to even look at me." I turned away from him, my eyes seeking the peacefulness of her features. "She wouldn't want me to be here."

"You loved her, in your own way," Daniel said slowly. "For that you deserve the chance to say goodbye." He blinked at me for a moment, contemplating his words. "And she didn't ever really hate you – especially at the end. She wanted to give you a second chance."

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning the words like I never have before in my life.

"You're welcome," he said softly, turning to leave. "Just don't be here when my Dad gets here. He wants to give you that second chance too… but…"

"Now's not a good time," I finished quietly.

"I'll talk to you later, Vlad." And then he was gone, leaving me alone with Maddie.

I stood in the silence, gazing down at the beautiful female. Seconds ticked into minutes which stretched into an hour. And still I stood, tears racing down my face for the first time since I was nineteen, barely able to contain the sobs that were threatening to tear me to pieces.

Wiping my nose on a handkerchief, I leaned onto the casket, daring myself to speak the last words I would ever speak to my love. It was frustratingly hard. The words jammed in my throat and tangled around my tongue. I stood there for the longest time, unable to say the words that needed to be said. After all this time, I was refusing to say goodbye.

But it could not last forever. Even the longest of seconds will pass us by sooner or later.

"A kiss for the road," I finally murmured sadly, brushing my lips against her frigid ones. "And I will say farewell for the last time, my dearest Madeline."

Then, with one more glance, tears threatening to cascade one more, I vanished.

* * *

_Story goes something like this: Vlad, Jack, and Maddie were great friends in college. Vlad and Danny get turned into hybrid human-ghosts (duh) and keep it a secret for years. Finally, Vlad and Danny are exposed as hybrids to Maddie and Jack (who turn on Vlad for being evil and attacking their son). Time goes by, everybody gets older, the Fentons get famous, Vlad turns into a hermit and leaves everybody alone (think TUE) - and then Maddie comes down with cancer. The Fentons and Vlad throw all sorts of money and resources at fighting it, and somewhere along the line Maddie and Jack begin to forgive Vlad for what he's done - Maddie especially wants to rekindle that old friendship. Only, the cancer is incurable and Maddie (obviously) dies before she can forgive him and make everything right again. So it's up to Danny (now 24) and Jack to fix their broken friendship and complete Maddie's dying request._

_Fun, huh? It's much better in my head, the kind of twisted, angsty, emotion-filled, redemption story I like to write. Only I can't write it! I have too much other stuff to do. Somebody steal this and write it so I can freaking READ IT!_

_

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Written March 7, 2007  
I can't believe Vlad is stuck in my head...  
Thanks for reading!


	45. True Rulers

_It's so freaking FUN being evil._

_...We're reached 555 reviews... just... holy freaking cowpies batman..._

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**True Rulers  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Danny dropped lazily into the seat next to me at the kitchen table. Jack and Jazz were gone on some 'father/daughter bonding' thing at the park. He grinned as I glanced up from my latest gadget. "What's that?" he asked. 

"It's an upgrade to the Fenton Tracker – it incorporates GPS technology." I sighed, setting the device down. "And it doubles as an Mp3 player for your father."

"Wonderful," Danny said, leaning precariously back in his chair. Balancing on the two back legs, he lifted his feet off the floor, holding himself upright with just one hand clenched to the table. I watched with a soft chuckle as he slowly let go and wobbled unsteadily for a moment. My son's coordination has grown considerably in the past few months, don't think I haven't noticed it.

"How was school?" I asked conversationally, wondering if he'd bring up the fact that he'd skipped math… _again_.

"Annoying." His eyes glittered when he found his balance and managed to hold the unstable position for a few minutes. "I need to go to Tucker's later and get my math notes from him. He bailed after school to chase after Valerie again."

I sighed. "You know, if you stayed _in class_, you wouldn't need Tucker to take notes for you."

Sapphire eyes met mine in surprise for a moment before he crashed over backwards. "Ow…" he moaned, rolling off the chair and rubbing the back of his head.

"You okay?" I asked before picking up my tracker again.

He didn't answer. Instead, he was sitting perfectly still, his head turned towards the living room, mouth slightly open.

"Danny?"

Suddenly he rose, twisting his head around to stare at me. His handsome blue eyes were gone, faded into a possessed red. He snarled at me, one hand coming up to point at me with a closed fist, still facing sideways to me.

_He's overshadowed! _"Danny! Fight the ghost!" I stood up so fast my chair went skidding behind me. I took one step towards him…

"Stop." Danny's voice had obtained a sinister echo, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

He slowly uncurled his fingers, an ectoblast forming around his hand. My eyes widened and I backed up a step. "D…Danny? What's going on?"

A feral grin grew on his face as he narrowed his bloody-red eyes and upped the energy flowing around his fingers.

"Danny?" I pleaded with him, raising one hand to block the sun-like glow of his hand. "Danny, stop."

"He can't." The voice rang through the room, goose bumps appearing on my arms at the pure power in the sound. "Not until I say so." The female's voice laughed. "But, for now, I suppose we could prolong your inevitable downfall. Throw in a small plot twist for the fun of it." Danny's arm lowered, his whole body draining of energy and life until he was standing, head hanging, limp in the middle of my kitchen. When the light from his impossible attack faded, I blinked, searching for the source of the voice.

Her hair, almost white in the florescent kitchen lights, curled wildly and fell to just below her shoulders. Icy, silver-blue eyes pinned me to the counter. Lithe and lean, the young woman leaned casually against the far kitchen wall, her lips curled into a simple smile. The descendent of the great Saami flashed her teeth, pale eyes seeming to glow with an internal delight.

"Let my son go!" I pushed away from the counter, my fingers clenching into fists. I would fight this… demon with my bare hands if I needed to.

"That I cannot do," she said softly. "He's got a part he needs to play still."

I glanced from my son to the young woman in growing fear. Danny's blurry eyes were still red as he stood flaccidly in the center of the room. "Who are you?" My voice trembled more that I had expected. _What was this person?_

"My name is Cori – and I am the ultimate ruler of your universe."

Staring at her in disbelief, I slid a few feet closer to my child. He didn't seem to notice. "That's a big claim for a ghost."

She startled me by bursting into a bubbling laughter, her eyes shinning. "I'm no ghost, Maddie. I'm only human, just like you."

"What did you do to my son?" I asked in a confused murmur when I reached my son's side. He didn't move when I touched his cheek. "Let him go."

Cori merely shook her head, crossing her arms and sending me a smile. "I told you, he's got a part he needs to play in my story."

"Story?" My fingers trailed over Danny's shoulder and reached down to grab his hand. "Don't worry Danny, I'll find a way to get you out of this."

"Oh yes," her smile grew, "my story. I need to torture him a bit."

My eyes widened. "You are not going to torture my son." Settling into a simple ready stance, I sent her a glare. Although there was _something _about this lady that sent shivers down my spine, there was no way she was going to hurt my child. Nothing would stop me. I stared into her eyes, blinking in surprise when I saw amusement and happiness in them. "He's just a child – don't you even care?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Not really. You see, Danny – this Danny – is just a transient character in an infinitesimally small portion of my life. A few blinks, a heartbeat or three, and he'll be gone. Your universe is so insubstantial, so flimsy. One errant thought on my part could shatter your entire world, never to be rebuilt." Cori paused for a moment. "There are hundreds of Dannys. Hundreds of Maddies. Hundreds of tiny, feathery worlds that flutter around me like butterflies." Her grin turned sardonic. "Marionette butterflies where I control all the strings."

"But…" I really couldn't think of what to say. _This is… impossible! She's… a goddess?_

"In a world not too far away," she continued, "your child is fighting for his life against the worst the Ghost Zone can throw at him, unable to even comprehend the true villain behind his trip to the Pits, and soon he'll be fighting his very own mind to survive. A bit farther on in a different world entirely, Danny's trapped in a coma – waiting to be revived whenever I choose to continue his story."

"That's cruel!" My legs tensed and my right hand crept to the ectostaff clipped onto my utility belt. This person was powerful and evil, that much I was sure of. Whether or not I would be able to fight her was still up for debate. But I was going to try.

"In a way. But you fail to grasp the concept." She pushed off the wall and sauntered across the kitchen with the easy grace of a fighter or a dancer. Stopping a few feet away, she tipped her head to the side, her silver-blue eyes flickering to my son. Danny moved, slipping out from behind me and appearing at her side, still limp and relaxed. She raised one eyebrow and watched my reactions carefully, her eyes still dancing. "Danny exists for one purpose and one purpose only – to entertain _me_. His every action, his every thought, every detail of his life is dictated by me for the sole purpose of making me smile. Do you understand?"

I shook my head, letting my hands fall to my side. The young woman's aura of power was almost palpable at this distance. Here was someone who was used to being listened to and her commands followed. This was someone I _couldn't_ fight. That knowledge was a crushing blow. _There's got to be some way to win. But how?_

"You are _nothing_, Maddie Fenton. Danny is a bit above you, as I'm currently enamored with the idea of the paranormal, but he is really inconsequential as well. I don't kill spiders and ants, dear Madeline, but I wouldn't hesitate to destroy your family."

"Ants?" I asked weakly.

"Ants," she confirmed with a malevolent smile. "I stay up at night dreaming of ways to torture you, to obliterate those you care about, to drive your loved ones insane. I waste _hours_ of time plotting your downfall. Over and over again, you've succumbed to my power, only to be reborn with the barest of thoughts. Your deaths, your lives, your very memories – they are all controlled by my whims."

Mouthing wordlessly, I glanced from Danny to Cori and back, trying to figure out what to say. Her confidence was so powerful it was hard to refute her words. She held all the power in her self-assured eyes, the smile on her face seeming to say that I was to be considered lucky that she was gracing me with her presence.

"I do grow bored of this realm," she said suddenly, studying her fingernails, pushing at the cuticles and frowning. "I need to do the dishes and get ready for tomorrow so I need to wrap this up. Danny?"

"Yes?" he said, his red eyes turning towards her, his body coming back to life.

"Danny, destr… wait," a thesaurus appeared in her hand, "I abhor repeating my words in so short a story." She trailed her finger down the page, searching for words. "Destroy… obliterate… ah. I like this one." Slamming the book closed, she grinned at me. "No hard feelings, right Maddie? You're just an ephemeral creature after all."

"Why do you do this?" I begged, my legs starting to tremble. Deep down, I was kicking myself for being _scared_ of this innocent-looking young woman. But…

"For I am also dancing to the machinations of the pencils of those greater than me," she answered seriously. "I am but a butterfly in their world, as fleeting and transparent as thin shavings of ice. I cannot fight their desires and must do their bidding just as young Danny must jump to mine. You may be a small character in my story, but I am but a momentary spirit created by the authors of my tale."

"Fight them," I whispered.

"I cannot fight any more than Danny can." She scowled suddenly. "Now look at that, you have dragged this story on much farther than I had expected. My dinner is done and my dishes are still dirty. Now the beef stew is going to get cold before I can eat it." She waved a negligent hand at my son. "_Annihilate_ your mother for me so I can go eat."

I whimpered, stepping backwards as energy flared around my son. He took a menacing step forwards, his eyes glowing and wicked. "You care more about your supper than us?"

She smiled happily, her eyes dancing. "Unquestioningly. But, perhaps, someday when there is nothing on TV worth watching, I'll return and rebuild your world so that you can dance for me again."

And with that, my butterfly world was torn asunder.

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Written April 21, 2007  
My supper really was getting cold... thus the abrupt ending.  
Thanks for reading!


	46. I'm Sorry!

_Geez. I got 14 days of work left before I'm done (and moving) and I'm sooo stressed out. I'm so stressed I'm exhausted, and I'm too exhausted to write. Which is bad since writing is my stress reliever. It got to the point where I wrote this in the middle of the night just to TRY and get some of the stress out of me._

_Warning: very stressed equals very dark. Also, it was written at 2am, so it doesn't make a ton of sense._

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**I'm Sorry!  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"No, Valerie… NO!" 

That didn't stop her. The sharp blade flickered out, its point glistening in the deep moonlight. Striking its intended target, the long knife sank into the cold flesh of the Ghost-Boy's chest. An almost feral smile appeared on her face, hidden behind her mask. _Finally…I got him._

One red gloved hand yanked backwards, pulling the knife out along with it. The ghost screamed in agony as greenish blood seeped out of the wound and pattered to the distant ground like algae-infested rain. His eyes were open in surprised fear, his supernatural gaze locked on hers for the most fleeting of instants. Then, hands clenched in pain, he fell.

The red huntress descended towards her fallen prey with slightly more class, her long knife held at the ready. She dropped the last few feet when her hoverboard dissolved, crouching easily by the ghost's side as he twitched in pain. She stared at the young ghost, waiting for some kind of response.

But the green, gooey fluid just continued to drip out of his body; the haphazard, agonized convulsions slowly faded away. Eyes that had once lit up the night sky with their otherworldly glow were dim when they finally drifted open, dazed pupil focusing unsteadily on her.

"Sam?" the ghost rasped, a bit of green blood leaking out of his mouth. "Sam, I'm scared."

The huntress leaned over the ghost, confusion making her forehead furrow. Before she could say anything, an unnaturally cold hand found its way weakly into hers. She started, her gaze jumping from the hand to the ghost's face. _What's going on?_

"Don't leave me, Sam," he breathed. "Please…"

Biting her lip, she shook her head. _Who's this Sam?_ She opened her mouth, but the ghost shuddered suddenly, his eyes flying open. Then he relaxed, his neon eyes focusing on hers, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Love you." The words came out bubbled and blurred, a bit more of his spectral blood trailing down his face.

And he was gone. Eyes unfocused, staring at her through the depths of time. The hand in hers went limp, its frail grasp vanishing. Slowly, the dark colors of the night were encroaching on the pair as the ghost's energetic glow dimmed and died.

For an eternal moment, Valerie sat beside the spiritless body, her bewildered expression not changing at all. Seconds passed. Minutes passed.

"Ghost?" she finally said, reaching over to touch the ghost's cheek. The head rolled limply, no signs of life appeared. "Ghost, this isn't funny."

Anger and fear surging through her, she pushed herself to her feet. "This isn't funny!" She stormed around the area a few times, her eyes darting back to the wilting form lying on the ground. When she once again found herself at the ghost's side, she dropped back down to the ground. "Ghosts can't die, you idiot. Stop playing around and get up."

There was no response from the boy.

"_Get up!_" She followed her command with a sharp slap to the ghost's unresponsive face. His head just rolled limply.

"I didn't _kill you_," she hissed, terror beginning to claw its way into her voice, panic starting to overrun her mind. "I couldn't have _killed_ you. I'm not a _murderer_." Jumping to her feet in horror, she gave the lifeless body a small kick.

When nothing happened, the small lifeline that was trying to tether her to reality broke. "No," she whispered, backing away from the body. "No." Tears were streaming down her face. _You can't be dead, you're a ghost. _"No!"_ I never meant to kill you._ Her entire body was trembling with the emotions that were streaming through her. "NO!"

Her nearly hysterical shrieks fell on deaf ears. There was no one around to hear her. With a kick of her feet, her hoverboard appeared and she blasted off into the night sky. Her terrified sobs quickly became inaudible as she pushed her board to full speed. It was only her unspoken scream that reverberated through the now silent park.

_I'm sorry!_

In the calm park, the ghost's body began to dissolve, evaporating in the cool, dark air. Soon, there was nothing left but that echoing, noiseless apology.

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_Written this morning when I was actually coherent: I have to say this. I believe ghosts have no 'internal organs' to damage, thus a stab through the arm would be just as 'fatal' as a stab through the chest. Neither is going to hit anything and will just leave two holes. But… stress reliever. Let's just say that. And yes – I do know that he reverts to human when he goes unconscious. But, really, do we know for sure what happens when he dies? _

Written May 18, 2007  
Thanks for reading.


	47. Running

_Two new stories in one day? COOL!_

_This one was written at 3:00am, when the last stress-relieving story didn't help enough. After this, however, I did get some sleep._

_Same warning: very stressed equals very dark. _

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**Running  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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He was running. He couldn't stop running. 

_It was supposed to be a simple male-bonding camping trip: Danny, his father, and his grandfather out in the woods having some fun. It was fun, while it lasted. It was the coming home part that had been horrifying._

He would never, ever stop. They might catch up to him.

_They were gone, everybody he had ever cared for - gone in a few hours of terror that he hadn't been there to prevent. He hadn't stopped it, and now they were dead._

The ghosts, the thoughts, were chasing him, their horrified cries bleeding through the night.

_The malevolent spirit hadn't just killed them… no. It had destroyed them. According to the news, it would take weeks – if not months – of forensic work to figure out who was who. Until then, all they had was a list of the 'missing'. All 247 of them. _

_A list that included Sam and Tucker._

Tears streaked down as his face as he stumbled over a rock and continued to race into the darkness.

_A list that included Jazz and his mother. _

His sobs were broken as he fought to get enough breath to keep running. He couldn't stop. Not now. The thoughts were gaining on him.

_A list that included Valerie, Mr. Lancer… even Dash, Star, and Kwan._

He collapsed to the ground, digging his broken fingernails into the dirt, tears streaking down his face, his breathing rough and haggard.

_How many of them had gone to fight to try and save the city? How many of them wouldn't be dead if he had been there? How many of them had died… how many were his fault?_

Pushing himself back to his feet, he staggered down the road, barely able to see, but not wanting to stop.

_When he and his dad had arrived back in Amity Park, they had turned on the news. They had finally learned of the disaster. The two of them didn't move for the longest time, completely transfixed on the replays of the news reels. Pictures flashed by their unresponsive faces. Maddie Fenton, blasting away; Sam, Tucker, and Jazz beside her, guns in hand; Valerie getting shot down; a bomb taking out a huge section of the school; the 'Wisconsin Ghost' fighting alongside the ghost hunters; a picture of the destruction and death left in the spirit's wake._

Strangled, whispered screams were forcing their way out of his mouth, no matter how much he fought to keep them in.

_For two days, he had just sat there, unable to move. He hadn't spoken, he hadn't cried, he hadn't done anything but watch the news. When a commercial came on, he would flip the channel to a new station, continuing to watch the news. Over and over he saw the last minutes of the people he cared about, all the while the thoughts were growing in the back of his head. _

_Finally, late on that second day, the boy blinked. For the first time, the thought had entered his mind: 'It's my fault.'_

He couldn't move any more. His tired legs collapsed underneath him and he dropped to the ground, curling up into a ball, letting his misery wash over him. The ghosts had caught up. The thoughts invaded his brain.

_His father had wandered through the room, head in a daze. He watched his father stumble, knowing full well that neither of them had eaten since they had gotten home. Both of them had been too far gone to care for food. _

_'It's my fault they're gone. I should have been here, I could have stopped it. Now I've lost almost everyone I care about.' _

_He kept his eyes on his father as the man staggered up the stairs and back to bed, his mind lost, his purpose for living yanked out from underneath him. _

_'No…' he thought sadly, 'I've lost everybody now. And it's my fault.' _

He lost himself to his frantic sobbing, digging his fingers into his hair, almost reveling in the pain of his body as it gasped for air between his desperate cries. More than anything, he wanted to make the agony go away. More than anything he just wanted it to be over.

_'It's my fault.' _

_He had gotten up from the couch at the next commercial, his eyes never leaving the stairs where his father had vanished. Although his original thought had been to head into the kitchen to get some food, his feet decided to take him elsewhere. _

_Out the door and into the darkening evening he had traveled. At first it was a walk, then a simple jog, not turning into the full-out panic-induced sprint for nearly a mile. _

_'No, no, no. It's my fault. They're dead and it's my fault.'_

A car pulled up next to him, its treads making the ground shiver and creak. Heavy footsteps barely marred his breathless sobbing as he curled up into a smaller ball.

_'It's my fault. Leave me alone.'_

A familiar hand touched his shoulder, and he opened his tear-filled eyes. "Danny," his father whispered, pain and terror echoed in his voice and gaze.

"Dad," he cried, throwing himself into his father's arms.

"It'll all be okay, Danny," the man whispered, holding his son tightly. "It'll all be okay."

* * *

Interesting... a slightly happy ending.  
Written May 18, 2007  
Thanks for reading!!


	48. Real Life

_A challenge was made, the pieces are moving..._

_This is an idea for a companion piece to 'Fentonless'. 'Fentonless' is a horrifying version of pre-Fenton Amity Park. This would be a similar idea, only it'd have Danny in it. I'm trying to drag the cartoon into 'real life' as it were. How would things REALLY have happened if it were in the real world, with real villians and murderous spirits? This gives me a reason to download and watch some more DP episodes, if nothing else, so I can drag in the cartoon evil-dooers._

_Only... I'm not too sure I really want to do it. What do you think? Good idea? Bad? Needs to be tweaked?_

_

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_

**Real Life  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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I stared at the creature that had stumbled out of the portal, completely transfixed, my heart pounding a million miles a second as terror-driven adrenaline pumped through my body. The creature's skin was savaged and darkened with painful-looking burns; a pinched scar crossed its cheek from ear to chin. Shockingly white hair stood straight up from its head, greenish energy still sizzled between the spikes, and curls of smoky steam swirled upwards from its black-clothed body. 

It collapsed onto the ground, sitting on its feet, holding up its trembling, gloved hands. My mouth was moving, trying to talk, trying to do _something_ as an unnaturally cold breeze blew down my back. I shivered, unable to wrench my eyes away from the human-like creature carefully pulling one of its silver-white gloves off and gazing down at its palm in silence. When it flipped its hand over to examine the back, I caught a glimpse of a harsh, smoldering wound that stretched from wrist to finger-tip. Just for a second a flicker of jade lightning zapped around its fingers.

My back bumped into a table, knocking the random inventions around. Dimly my brain registered the fact that I had been slowly backing away from this creature since it had emerged from the swirling, emerald mass of energy. At the sound it looked up, supernaturally green eyes accented by dark, bruised circles focused on me. I gasped, my eyes widening even further – I could see the picture on the wall _through_ the creature's head.

"Sam?" it muttered faintly. It had an odd reverberation in its voice, almost like it was talking from really far away. I couldn't look away from the eerie eyes that had captured mine. Somehow… somehow there was something familiar about those eyes…

Suddenly it hit me. "Danny!" I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in horrified surprise. Beside me Tucker sank to the ground, a moan escaping from between his lips.

"What?" Danny asked, narrowing his eyes before glancing back down at his hand. "It's so weird, it doesn't even really hurt any more," he added softly, flipping his hand over and over, prodding the angry red burn with his finger.

"D-dude," Tucker stuttered. "I-I think… I think you might be dead."

Danny looked up at us with an arched eyebrow. "What?" he asked again, this time disbelief and humor coloring his tone. "Are you nuts? I can't be dead."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that and, from the silence, apparently neither could Tucker. The only thing I could do was point to the mirror on the wall with a trembling finger. Slowly he got to his feet and staggered across the room, his white shoes dragging on the floor. I couldn't help it – I edged away from his chill presence as he passed by us. Tucker, still on the ground, scooted towards me and pressed up against my legs.

He reached the mirror and stared into it, holding perfectly still for the longest of seconds. His fingers were clamped onto the table, his arms shaking visibly.

"I think you're a ghost," Tucker whispered.

Danny shook his head, fizzled hair flying and settling down in a slightly-more normal pattern. "Ghosts don't exist, Tuck." But I noticed he couldn't wrench his eyes away from the mirror. He was just gazing at his reflection, shock and denial coloring his voice. Glancing at us once over his shoulder, taking in our fearful expressions, he turned back to examine the creature in the mirror. "Ghosts don't exist," he muttered darkly.

"Danny?" I rasped, finally finding my voice. I had seen the growing terror and panic in his face.

"Ghosts don't exist. I'm not dead," he answered, shaking his head again. Closing his eyes, he slammed his hand down onto the table. "I'm not dead, I'm not dead, I'm not dead…" he was muttering it over and over, almost like a mantra.

I pushed myself away from the table, forcing my feet to take a few steps closer towards him. Ghost or not, this was my best friend. Fear was warring with my brain, my instincts screaming at me to run away as fast as I could. Trembling, I took another step, reaching up my hand to touch his shoulder. "Danny?"

"_I'm not dead!_" he yelled, emerald energy suddenly flaring around him. It blazed, its freezing fire scorching my raised hand. As the mirror shattered and inventions all around the room rattled and floated into the air, I lost what little control over my body I had left.

I ran.

* * *

Written May 19, 2007  
Yes, if I continue this, it will follow canon...  
Thanks for reading!


	49. Real Life: Octopi

_Okay - so as you're aware, I wrote this bit of an origins story on a dare and called it 'Real Life', thinking that that would be that. To my huge suprise, I got a huge response that I hadn't been expecting. People actually, really liked it. So, after I got over the 'weird'ness factor, I started to get excited about it. This was kind of the chance I'd been waiting for - a chance for me to REALLY mess with the DP universe and make it my own. Here was my chance to take the next step as an author and try creating my 'own' characters, using Butch Hartman's as a jumping off point._

_So here's a bit that I wrote. I dunno where it fits into the plot, or even what the plot is at this point, but I want to get a feel for how the characters are going to move and what it's going to be like to write. So... consider this a one-shot from the 'Real Life' universe._

_Remember, the characters are a bit messed up (See my journal entry on DeviantArt if you're interested) and I've really changed some of the things. One that I've added is the fact that there are two 'realms' existing side by side all the time. There's the human one that normal people see and interact with, and then there's an invisible spectral realm that exists with it - this is the one that ghosts are on. Hopefully it comes across in the piece._

_I want you to be harsh, please! Tell me if it makes sense, or if it's too bizarre, or what. YES - I KNOW IT'S NOT BUTCH HARTMAN CENTRIC! That, I already know. It's Cori-centric. XD I really want to get a good handle on the flow of the story before I start._

_Thanks a ZILLION to anybody that reads and reviews for me. THANKS!_

_

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_

**Real Life - Octopi  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

A frozen gust of icy wind slashed at him through the bright, warm afternoon sunshine – only it didn't even manage to ruffle his hair as it blasted past. He shivered and tucked his hands into his pockets, watching his breath fog lightly in the air. Nobody around him felt the paranormal wind as he slowly turned towards the source of the chill, frozen blue eyes scanning the area. 

The creature was slowly making its way up the bustling street, long tentacles reaching out to pull its gelatinous mass forwards. Transparent even to his enhanced vision, the monster octopus hadn't yet gained enough energy to become visible to the average human. But it would soon, and then the inevitable screaming and the running would start.

He watched as one dripping, oozing tentacle reached out and wrapped around a passer-by's neck. It squeezed, fury sparking in its reddish eyes, but the ghostly finger passed through the man without as much as a shiver on his part. The octopus cracked its sharp beak in annoyance, the sound sharp and terrible on the supernatural plane, completely unheard on the human one.

Leaning back against the wall, Danny Fenton watched the ghost carefully as it moved closer, the sounds of its massive head scrapping against the pavement starting to reach his ears. An almost-smile flickered across his face and one eyebrow cocked upwards when a school bus passed straight through the octopus without slowing, a furious crackling sound coming from the creature when its attempts to touch the bus failed spectacularly.

"Yeah, like that'll work," he said, purposefully forcing his voice out of the human audible range and into the spectral one. A woman glanced at him as she walked by, sending confused waves of emotions in his direction – to her, he was just mouthing words to nobody. He sent her a quick smile before turning his gaze back to the creature on the busy street.

The octopus had heard him just fine. Turning one infuriated, ruby eye in Danny's direction, it whipped one tentacle in his direction, freezing, oozing muck splattering against his clothes. Danny merely grinned and folded his arms, waiting, ignoring the as-of-yet invisible ooze on his shirt.

All the humans' emotions floating in the air were a feast for such an energy-drained ghost and the octopus was soaking them up, growing in size and opacity with each passing second. It cracked its beak harshly against the pavement, and a few of the humans near jumped and looked around, finally beginning to shiver as the creature's spectral energy crested to a point they could feel. Danny fished his thermos out of his old backpack and dropped the pack onto the ground, kicking it back into a corner and out of the way. "Come on, you can do it," he whispered to the octopus, "I can't catch you unless you get a bit stronger…"

Finally it happened. The first person to scream was a little girl. Others began to make out the misty form of the ethereal octopus lugging its way down the street and started pointing and running. Danny waited patiently as the human populace of the city of Amity Park panicked and vanished quickly enough to make some ghosts jealous. From his vantage point in the shadowed recesses of the street, Danny let his smile grow a bit. The waves of fear and terror were heady. He let his eyes fall closed, his self-confidence soaring along with his energy levels.

Power brushed through him and eddied around him like a chaotic whirlpool, each human sending off strong waves of emotional energy. A chill feeling sparked in his stomach at the feelings that were swirling around him, fizzled for a moment, and then exploded outwards like a small bomb. Silvery, paranormal light burst into life around him, blasting the frenzied ripples of energy away and leaving a thrumming, tranquil power in its wake.

Standing in the middle of the sudden calm spot on the supernatural plane, Danny opened his emerald-green eyes and focused on the octopus. It snarled at him, bloody eyes narrowing and a tentacle streaking out to try and wrap around his foot. He easily jumped over the swung appendage and kept himself floating in the air, grinning at the ghostly octopus.

"Abomination…" the specter rasped, more tentacles swinging forwards to arc over Danny's head. "Kill…"

Danny twirled his hand in the air, neon-green energy forming a small ring that hovered and sizzled just beyond his fist. Suddenly he spread his fingers, the ring expanding in a flare of energy outwards and smashing into the encroaching tentacles. "Now, now," Danny chided, shaking a finger at the creature, "we've been over this. I'm not going to just let you kill me. And my name is 'Phantom'."

The octopus cracked its beak loudly, drawing its mass of tentacles closer to its oozing head. "Abomination…"

Shrugging, Danny gathered a blast of power in his hand and tossed it in the ghost's direction, listening to it screech and curl protectively around the burn on its gooey mantle. "It's better than half the stuff I get called, I guess."

He ducked a furiously swung tentacle, flitting in closer to the octopus. He waited for the briefest of seconds, watching the incensed eyes focus on his sudden proximity. Energy coiled around his fist as he cocked it back, keeping his green eyes on the basket-ball-sized, reflective, red orbs of the octopus. His fist flew forwards, zapping and powerful, and slammed into the jellylike, semi-sized head of the ghost with a huge flare of light.

When the flash of energy faded, the octopus was sprawled on the other side of the street, gooey ectoplasm splattered and dripping from the unlucky buildings. A fresh wave of terror blew through the street from the humans huddled in the store closest to the ghost, the emotions ruffling his white hair and his clothes like a small breeze, ramping up his power levels once more. The specter was grinding its beak, squealing in pain, one of its eyes closed and dripping inky green blood.

Danny dropped back onto the street and paced slowly towards the cowering creature, skirting around the small pools of spectral ooze. Pausing just outside the reach of its trembling tentacles, Danny held up the thermos and twisted off the cap. "This is my town," he told the octopus, "stay out of it. Got it?"

The ghost hissed furiously at him, lunging towards him and lashing out with a slimy appendage. Danny grabbed the offered tentacle and curled his fingers around it, freezing-burning power crackling around his hand and searing into the octopus's spectral flesh. Shrieking in pain, it yanked its tentacle out of his fingers and curled tenderly around the sizzling burn. "Abomination…" it grated.

"This is my town," Danny repeated, his eyes flaring with energy. A wave of spectral energy blew away from him, pushing forcefully against the octopus's bulk but not even shifting the leaves on the street. "Stay out of it. Got it?"

One ruby eye studied him for a moment before the ghost seemed to nod. The thermos came up, a gloved finger pressed the small button, and the octopus was gone. Danny carefully screwed on the cap of the thermos and glanced around at the mess they had created, trying to determine how much damage had been done. Ectoplasm was everywhere – but that would evaporate as soon as there were no more spectral creatures in the area to keep it tangible. It looked like the only real problems would be the couple of cracked windows and the one broken parking meter from the octopus being slammed across the street.

Danny shrugged, feeling the constant spectral breeze from the human's emotions calming down and quieting now that the 'evil' ghost was gone. Eyes were peering out of windows, heads poking out to glance warily at him. He drifted back across the street, struggling not to chuckle when the people's eyes widened and they vanished from view as he drew nearer, tiny waves of apprehension coloring the air. Grabbing his backpack from its resting place in the shadows, he tossed the thermos inside and took to the sky.

Hopefully he could lose the overgrow sea food relatively quickly and salvage the rest of his day. As he headed towards home and the portal leading to the ghost zone, the quiet laugh finally slid out of his throat. "Abomination…" he rasped in a poor imitation of the ghost, letting his laugh grow and throwing himself into a tight barrel roll to try and burn off some of his excess energy. "Stupid ghosts."

* * *

Written May 23, 2007  
So... What do you think?  
Thanks for reading!


	50. Real Life: The Ghost Zone

_(huh. Coulda sworn I uploaded this yesterday... wonder where it went?)_

_YEAH! 50 chapters and 650+ reviews! SWEET! I never, ever thought that I'd get this far. I'm so psyched that I wrote this just for you._

_Hehe… I'm still messing around with the idea of working on writing 'Real Life' in a few weeks once I quit my job. Here's another bit from it that popped annoyingly into my head WAY too early this morning and I wrote it down. Hope I fixed all the sentence stuff, I edited it a lot better than the last one. :D Um… I've always hated the 'Ghost Zone' the way Butch Hartman created it… so I've changed it. A lot. If you hate that idea, you might as well stop reading now – it's only going to get worse from here. ;) _

_Please, please tell me what you think! I really love your opinions! What do you think about my idea for the Ghost Zone?_

_

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_

**Real Life: The Ghost Zone**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I reached out, tracing the barrier with an extended finger. The swirling greenish mist twirled around my fingertip and followed it around in mindless circles like bits of iron following a magnet. I blew a bit of my black hair out of my eyes and squinted into the portal, struggling to discern _something_ other than an endless emerald abyss. There was nothing that bugged me more than this window into the spectral world – it whispered cajolingly, echoed in my ears, and fizzed against my nerves. I couldn't understand this… place. It drew me to it like a child towards candy and it simultaneously pushed me away with shivers down my back. 

Sam told me about a week ago that my parents' ghost portal was creepy. Every time she's come down here since it turned on she's felt like someone was staring at her and watching her every movement. Tucker's never said anything, but I've noticed that he always stands with his back against a wall and never takes an eye off the eerie swirling lights. Both of them are much more edgy and nervous around the portal than they are anywhere else.

Slowly pulling my hand back, I watched the congealing mist fall apart and go back to swirling on the vague spectral winds. My parents apparently felt the odd chill too – they were busy building some kind of door to prevent the ghosts from getting through. I chuckled softly at that thought. As if some human device would be able to keep those things out of this world.

I ran a hand through my hair, grinding my teeth together as I thought. This stupid portal was driving me crazy. The only thing stopping me from turning into a ghost and stepping through the barrier was the question as to whether I was being drawn to it like a child to his family or like a fly towards a flytrap.

Was traveling into the world of ghosts going to get me killed?

My friends would be screaming at me right now. Ghosts were always trying to destroy me out in the human world – they saw me as some kind of 'abomination' that needed to be taken care of. Completely human or completely ghost, take your pick, but you need to be one or the other. To my friends it would be a simple solution: stay away. It's obvious the ghosts don't like you.

But they weren't up at two in the morning, again, unable to sleep because the swirling abyss of the ghost portal filled their minds every time they closed their eyes. No, that was me. I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in over a week.

It was the portal's fault too. It was still there, in my head; burning desires to see this other world scorching little holes in my brain. Tiny embers of yearning to go…

…Home?

With a blinding flash of spectral light, I let my human form vanish and gave in to the almost instinctive reflex to simply float in the air. The swirling phantom mists in the portal had been whipped up into a chaotic maelstrom by my transformation, but they slowly settled down into tiny whirlpools of colors and lights as my ethereal energy brushed against the barrier.

Once more, I reached up a gloved finger to trace the very edge of the ghost zone and smiled at the almost eager way the mist jumped to follow my finger. The pull was stronger now than ever before, and almost before I knew what had happened, I had pushed my hand past the barrier and _into_ the ghost's world.

I hesitated, watching the mist congeal and eddy around my outstretched fingertips. Within seconds, the ends of my fingers were completely invisible. It was an interesting feeling – kind of cool and warm at the same time; the tickling tingle of energy, the feeling of being surrounded by family around a delicious meal, the taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows around a warm fire, the tiniest smell of cinnamon-sugar. It was impossible to describe.

Impossible to _resist_.

Stepping into the paranormal world was just as easy as stepping out of my door in the morning. For a few seconds, that warm frozen mist swirled around me, completely coating me in their opaque tendrils, welcoming me to this other world. When I drifted far enough away from the portal, the haze cleared and I had my first real view of the bizarre spectral universe.

It quite literally took my breath away. I hung perfectly still, not bothering to breathe, gazing in wonder at this new world. It was _nothing_ like I had ever imagined.

Stretching out beneath my feet was a vast world, illuminated by an eerily glowing sky. Dense forests, vast lakes, sweeping rivers, broad plains and farmlands, small towns, and a glistening city turned the landscape in a crazy patchwork quilt. The sky stretched on forever, a bright and simmering emerald, dotted with an amalgam of doors that were suspended in space. Far away, the horizon slowly turned to a dark black in all directions, giving the appearance that everywhere but right _here_ was locked in perpetual night. Here and there, tiny streaks of light were dancing up into the sky and disappearing through random doors.

I glanced behind me, memorizing the odd-looking door that had appeared. The door was roughly circular, made of darkly stained wood with a star-colored handle. Propped open slightly, I could still see my parents' mess of a lab beyond the slightly swirling, transparent mist. Reaching out, not even really thinking of the consequences, I pushed the door, let it click shut, and flew down into my strange, new world.

* * *

I hovered over one of the small towns, not quite daring to descend into it. It wasn't very big – most of the buildings were arranged along one, broad main street – but the town itself was giving off a creepy vibe. Below me, the street was a cobbled mess of cracks and pits, an eerie mist creeping into the shadowed recesses. The various buildings were rundown and looked abandoned, broken windows swinging open in the haunting breeze. Dead trees stretched their gray, shattered fingers into the sky, seeming to grasp for my ankles as I floated just out of their reach. A bird, little more than a skeleton given life, landed heavily on one of the branches and shrieked at me with a wailing rasp that made my head spin.

The worst part was the ghosts that inhabited this lifeless town. Some drifted randomly down the street, spectral blood oozing from remembered wounds, their eyes distant and unseeing. Most of them just sat on street corners, buckets, or benches, or had collapsed up against buildings, unmoving, their gaze staring off into oblivion. Very few ghosts even glanced at me when I finally got the nerve to get a little closer look. The ones that noticed my presence immediately looked away, continuing on their path.

I dropped lightly to the ground in this ghost town, gazing around the weirdly silent town. Other than the random scuffle of a shoe against the cobbles and another bone-chilling shriek from the bird, there was nothing to be heard. I moved over to a teenage girl that was sitting against one of the light posts on the ancient street and crouched down in front of her. She was wearing an old-style dress, her brown hair and pale skin covered in a fine layer of dust. Even her open, staring eyes seemed to be grimy with collected filth. "Hello?" I whispered, wincing at the harsh sound of my quiet voice in the dead air.

She didn't answer, she didn't do anything, but a ghost that had been shuffling past us flinched at my voice. Pale hands jumped up to smooth out his suit coat and nervous, green eyes flickered up to meet mine.

"Hey," I said softly, pushing myself to my feet and taking a step towards him. "Can I talk…"

The man seemed to vanish, he was running so fast. I watched him as he rounded a corner and ducked between two buildings within the blink of an eye, then I turned around to gaze up and down the street. All movement had ceased, every ghost either frozen in place or vanished into one of the neglected buildings.

"Um… okay…" I muttered, sticking my hands into my pockets and glancing up and down the street one more time. "That's officially creepy."

"Yes," a voice hissed, "It _is_ quite creepy, but I enjoy it." The words were dripping with distain and hatred, seeming to come from every direction at once.

All around me the eerily glowing mist was growing thicker and congealing into a short, human form. The young, oddly dressed boy that stepped out of the emerald haze raised one hand over his hand, waiting as the skeletal bird swooped down like a falcon and landed smoothly onto his fist. It opened its mouth and spread its bony wings as wide as possible; an ear-splitting wail reverberated against the buildings and shattered one of the few unbroken windows.

I backed away from the bird, my stomach churning at the haunting noise. Bumping into the teenage girl I'd been trying to talk to earlier, I stopped and managed to tear my eyes off of the gleaming eye sockets of the bird as it settled down and neatly folded its wings. The white boy – dressed like a badly inspired Native American from a movie made in the 30's, complete with a long bow and eagle feathers – was glaring at me. "I agree. What _are_ you doing in my town?"

"I was…" I hesitated, trying to figure out why I _was_ here, "I was just visiting."

"We don't like visitors," he snapped, gesturing angrily with his free hand. "And we _really _don't like people that talk and ruin our fun. Now leave, before we make you leave."

"Sure," I said. Turning away, I mumbled under my breath. "I wouldn't want to talk to a brat anyway."

I had made it less than three steps before he suddenly appeared in front of me, bird perched on his head, arrow cocked, arrowhead pointed straight into my eyes from less than a foot away. "What did you call me?" he snarled, flaring eyes narrowing dangerously. Spectral winds were kicking up around us at the young ghost's anger, picking up bits of gravel and dust at it roared down the street.

The bird's head was turned in my direction, studying me as I held perfectly still, trying to figure out what to say. It seemed to come to a conclusion, lowering its head and hissing at me, flaring its wings. "He's a what?" the boy said, jerking the bow up in surprise. His eyes rolled upwards in an attempt to see the creature angrily posing on his head. "You sure?" The skeletal falcon gave another blood-curdling shriek and the ghost's eyes were back on me. "Abomination," the boy growled, "get out of my town."

I didn't wait another second. Taking off, I flew as fast as possible up into the door-studded sky, searching desperately for the black and silver door that was my way home. "Don't mess with me, abomination!" the young boy screamed after me, his echoing voice driving deep into my stomach and settling there with cold pins and needles. "Don't mess with YoungBlood!"

As I dove towards the door that had finally appeared to my questing eyes, I silently berated myself for running away so fast. The child ghost hadn't been _that_ strong. Chalking it up to being in a strange place for the first time and vowing that it would be different if we ever met again, I paused in front of the black wood and turned around, my eyes once again scanning the horizon.

With my new knowledge of just what was out there, the entire world had taken on a darker, more malevolent cast: the dense forests were dark and haunted; the lakes deep and cold; the wide rivers were sweeping casts of rapids and whirlpools; the towns deserted and shattered. The shadows that hovered around the edges of the horizon sent chills down my spine. An ancient bell tolled, its lingering and ethereal tone causing me to shiver and glance in the direction of the gleaming city. The sound came again and again, the haunting echo of the monotone melody seeming to hold the entire world frozen until the last vestiges of the sound had finally died away.

I shuddered and pushed the remaining resonance out of my head. It was time to go home – and I sure wasn't going to be too quick to want to come back. The whole place was too creepy and paranormal for me. I reached out and grabbed the star-colored doorknob, twisting it and pushing against the door.

It was locked.

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Written May 26, 2007  
Banana pancakes ROCK!  
Thanks for reading.


	51. Splinters: Jai

_So, here's the deal. You don't have to have read this for 'Pits' to make sense and you don't really have to have read 'Pits' for this to make sense. It's just some background story on some of the characters. K? But if you haven't read that story, you won't be able to figure out how in the world this fits into this fandom. _

_Enjoy._

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**Splinters: Jai**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

He dropped into a crouch just outside the stables, one hand lightly settling onto the building's side to keep himself steady. Balanced on his toes, he leaned forwards just enough for his electric blue eyes to peak around the corner. The pure white hair of a horse's tail filled his vision for a heartbeat, and then he could see it. 

A large, golden carriage stood glinting in the bright morning sunlight. Dozens of servants garbed in the arrogant style of the palace servants were carting gilded boxes. An entire legion of warriors decked out in silver-etched armor were lounging around the area. Literally hundreds of lesser servants and slaves were scurrying around, loading up small carts and taking care of the horses.

"Jai!" a girl hissed as she dropped down onto the ground next to him. "You're not allowed to be here."

"I'm going to be a servant soon too, Mea - I can be here." He didn't take his eyes off of the palace servants that were strutting around like jewel encrusted peacocks. A very small part of him wanted to crack a few jokes at the 'fashionable' style of the highest servants… the rest of him was dying to be one of them. They were as high as a person of his birth could ever rise. Someday, maybe, he'd be a servant to the King himself.

"Yeah," the girl muttered, pushing her thick black hair out of her eyes, "you'll just be one of those sweating idiots carrying heavy boxes of junk around."

He pushed himself away from the corner, twisting around to glare at his elder sister. Energy flared around him for the briefest of moments making his eyes glow. "I'm _talented_," he snapped, "that'll get me somewhere."

Mea grinned. "I'm so scared of you, little brother. You can make your eyes glow." Her grin faded as her blue eyes settled on the busy square beyond Jai's shoulder. "We really shouldn't be here – the Guardians will kill us if they find us spying on the palace staff."

"I want to see what they're doing," he whispered. Crawling a little closer, he snuck his head back around the corner and squinted into the bright sunlight. "I think the King is going to be here."

"King Aldren?" Mea's voice took on a soft squeak and she was suddenly beside her brother, peering into the bustling area. "Do you think we'll really get to see him?"

"That's the royal coach, right?" Jai muttered. "Makes sense that there'd be a royal person in it. And I heard that they're getting the King's ship ready to leave. And there's a rumor going on that the King is going to pay royalties to Pariah, I bet that's where they're going."

A throat was cleared behind them. The two children froze in place, waiting for the deep-voiced man to say something. They didn't have to wait long. "Tradeshijai and Tradeshimea…"

Jai winced, slowly turning around and getting to his feet, not quite able to meet the emerald eyes of the Guardian. Swallowing heavily, he tried to raise his gaze, but found himself staring at the pendant hanging from the muscular man's neck rather than his face. "Lakameteradei," he whispered as respectfully as he could while he tried to prevent his knees from shaking, "it's nice to see you again."

"Would you care to explain what you were doing here… again?" The golden seahorse pendant trembled and vibrated as the large man spoke.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye at his sister, he noticed how pale she had gotten. He took a deep breath. "I wanted to see King Aldren," he finally muttered.

"I was following Jai," his sister managed to rasp.

A heavy silence fell down between the three, only broken by the soft breathing of the two siblings and a long, protracted sigh from the Guardian. "Mea, go home. I'll talk to you later," the man rumbled before dropping a hand onto Jai's shoulder. After the girl had scrambled down the alley and had vanished, he continued. "Tradeshijai – what am I going to do with you?"

"Give me a warning and let me go?"

"Not likely." The Guardian steered Jai down the alley, keeping a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "This is the seventh time I've caught you spying on the palace. Try again."

Jai bit his lip, keeping his eyes fixed on the cobbled stones of the small side street. "I could clean out the stables…"

"You've done that five times before and you haven't learned from that yet." L'Dei let out a sigh and stopped in the dark shadows. "Jai," he said as he crouched down. For the first time, the boy looked the Guardian in the eyes. Electric blue met sizzling green. "You've got to stop doing this. If someone else would have caught you, you'd be brought before the Court."

"What's the harm in watching them fill some stupid carts?" Jai felt his eyes flare a little and desperately clamped down on his feelings. It would be an insanely idiotic idea to anger the Guardian any more than he already had.

L'Dei raised one eyebrow. "Have you stopped to consider that maybe they aren't merely filling 'some stupid carts'? What if they were doing something important?"

"Like bringing money to King Pariah?" The words slipped out of his mouth before Jai could stop them. He tensed as the Guardian's eyes narrowed.

"Where did you hear that?" the large man whispered, his powerful hand clamping tighter on Jai's shoulder.

"Just rumors," he squirmed, "I don't know really what's going on."

Impossibly green eyes stared into his, gazing down into the depths of his mind. "You are far too clever for your own good, Tradeshijai. It's going to get you killed someday… or it's going to get someone _else_ killed."

Jai kept his mouth closed. Sure, this might have been the seventh time he'd allowed himself to be caught, but he wasn't stupid. He was already in a deep pit of trouble – there was really no need to go and make the hole any deeper.

"Let's go talk to Deshi."

Jai's stomach plummeted. If there was one thing worse that being caught spying by his father's best friend, it was being brought home by his father's best friend. His father was bound to overreact. "Do we have to?"

"Yes," the man pushed himself gracefully to his feet and began to effortlessly direct the young man down the street towards his family's home. "I haven't had one of your mother's wonderful ales in a while."

* * *

Jai was sitting in the kitchen of his family's ale house, kicking his feet against the chair legs as he contemplated the various horrible tortures that were about to ensue. As he had expected, his father had exploded like one of the King's fireworks – spectacular, loud, colorful, and quick. His mother, however, had simmered like a pot of sugar syrup. At the very least, Jai expected he'd be on double-shift drudge duty for the next few weeks. 

He could almost hear his parents' voices drift through the ancient wooden wall of the ale house. It was just a distant murmur as they chatted with Lakameteradei and he let it flow through him as he closed his eyes and let his head thump softly back against the wall.

"He's a curious boy," the large Guardian was saying, accompanied by the dull clump of the metal cup hitting the hard table.

"He's going to get himself killed," his father put in. Jai wrinkled his nose in disagreement, but remained completely silent.

"I'm not so sure, Deshi," L'Dei rumbled. "He's smart – talented too."

A few soft clinks of glasses touching. "…a handful," his mother's voice suddenly slipped into existence, "I'm at a loss as to what to do. None of his friends are like this. I've never heard of any boy getting into this much trouble."

"He's got friends?" his father cut in. "Since when?"

"Have you stopped to think that might be the problem?" the Guardian said thoughtfully. "Maybe if he had friends… or something to otherwise occupy his time?"

"Any ideas?"

"Have you thought of sending him up to the servant's quarters for training?"

His father's voice dropped sourly. "He'd think it'd be _fun_ to be in the palace, L'Dei. It wouldn't be much of a punishment. Besides – he's my son. He'll inherit the ale house and work here when he grows up."

Jai clenched his fingers into a tight fist and bit his lip to keep from saying anything. He _hated_ this ale house. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was work in this boring place. Mea could have it for all he cared – she actually enjoyed making ales and washing cups. He wanted to see the world.

He was so wrapped up in his outraged ranting that he missed what was said next. By the time he had calmed down enough to listen to his parents again, they had apparently moved on to a new topic. Silently he cursed. He'd probably missed hearing what his punishment would be.

"Has he shown any aptitude yet?" Jai's whole body went still at the Guardian's question. _Aptitude?_ A small shiver slithered up his back as his body tensed. _They wouldn't…_

"He's got talent, we're sure," his mother's soft voice answered, "but all he can seem to do is make his eyes glow. We haven't seen anything else – and he would have told us."

Jai could hear L'Dei's sigh from the kitchen. "If only he'd show some talent… that's really disappointing. I keep watching him grow and crossing my fingers that something will come up, but he'll get too old soon. It's been generations since your family has shown any talent at all – and your unique abilities would have been helpful right about now."

Safely ensconced in another room, Jai managed a roll of his eyes. He was, personally, sick of hearing about the exploits of his ancestors and their 'special abilities'. He was rather happy that his talent seemed to be nothing more than a vague aura of power and having the ability to make his eyes glow. Besides, if he showed any sort of special skills what-so-ever, the Guardians would snatch him up without a second thought. If there was one thing he figured that would be worse than being stuck in an ale house for the rest of his life, it was being stuck as a Guardian for the rest of his life. On the positive side, once he turned twelve he would be officially too old to be put through training – and he was within months of his twelfth birthday.

"My son isn't going to go to war," his mother insisted again. He could imagine her normal grey eyes filling with a sparkling fire. A resounding clunk drifted through the wall as she slammed her cup down against the tabletop. "He will not become a Guardian and be shipped off to fight and die."

"I agree," his father soothed, "but L'Dei's plan has merit."

Jai's breath stopped in his throat. _No… please, no…_ They had threatened him a million times, but they wouldn't. His mother was too much of a peace activist to allow them to do _that_.

"It'd give him structure, discipline, and boys his own age to talk to. It'd keep him out of trouble." The Guardian's deep voice made Jai's heart sink into his stomach.

"My son is _not_ going to go fight in that stupid war!"

"He won't," L'Dei's voice cut through her muttered objections. "He won't ever become a Guardian – he doesn't have the raw talent and he doesn't have the lineage to make it. But the _training_ would be good for him. It only lasts a few months and it's open to any child that has a Guardian's recommendation."

"After that," his father added, clearly having decided to agree with his best friend on the matter, "he'd be free to come home and hopefully have grown out of this wild streak."

Jai didn't want to listen any more. They were thinking about sending him off to Guardian training camp for a few months. Endless lists of rules, harsh consequences for the smallest of problems, hour after hour of intense military training… He squeezed his eyes shut, biting deeper into his lip to keep from screaming out of frustration. Sure, he was too curious for his own good and yeah, he spent too much time putting together rumors and trying to figure out what was going on in the world – but that didn't mean he needed to be sent to Guardian training camp.

"Just for a few months?" his mother asked softly.

Jai shook his head, feeling his eyes start to burn. Some of his worst nightmares included Guardian training camps. He wanted to get up and run into the ale house proper, throw himself at his mother's feet and beg for this to not happen. He'd do anything to _not_ go to the training camps. He'd change his ways… he'd promise…

"Then he'd be back? No going to war?" She sounded like she wasn't convinced, but she was definitely wavering.

The boy held perfectly still, curling his toes in his soft boots, letting his mind race as he tried to figure out what to do. There was no way his mother would listen to his promises. He'd broken them too many times to count. He had to get away from this; he didn't want to hear this anymore. He'd rather by anywhere else.

"I promise," L'Dei's deep voice replied, power and sincerity ringing through the house like the death toll of a ship's bell.

Swallowing heavily, Jai's eyes squeezed closed as tightly as possible. He wanted to get away. His stomach was rolling and he almost felt like he was going to be sick. He wanted to go somewhere… anywhere…

His mind suddenly latched onto an image of the city's north wall. A long time ago, he'd used to play on the north wall with his best friend. It'd been a safe place where he'd been happy and there hadn't been a care in the world. _That's_ where he wanted to be.

"I suppose…" his mother worried, her cup clinking repeatedly against the table top as she thought it over.

Power built up around Jai almost against his will. He curled up around his stomach as blue flames danced into existence around him. Trembling, he tried to clamp down on the rush of energy as it flickered and flared. He knew L'Dei would feel it and come in to see what was up. There was no need for the Guardian to know how powerful Jai really was. It was better for the man to think he was just a barely talented kid doomed to run an ale house for the rest of eternity.

The kitchen door clicked. Jai's head shot up, anxiety swirling in his stomach like a pot full of angry bees. He _really_ didn't want to be in the kitchen.

Then, abruptly, he wasn't.

By the time the kitchen door had swung completely open, Jai was sitting on top of the north wall, his lunch having decided to come back up the way it had gone down. When his stomach settled down a little, he moaned and curled his arms around his stomach, unable to really comprehend what had happened.

Back in the kitchen, however, the green-eyed Guardian was staring at the stop where he'd seen Jai vanish, an odd mixture of sadness and confusion evident on his face.

* * *

Written June 24, 2007  
Queires? No queieres? Estas confudido?  
Thanks for reading!


	52. Tapes

_When it comes down to it, we are all just sad strange little people eking out a sad strange little existence in our own sad strange little world. Only, for some of us, our worlds are a little stranger than others._

_

* * *

_

**Tapes  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

_

* * *

_

_There is a clicking sound as the tape begins to play. After a few seconds of static, a middle-aged man's voice sounds over the tape. _

_Psychologist: _This is Tom Richards on July the 15th, 2016. This is our first session with Daniel Fenton. Mr. Fenton, I have your permission to tape this session?

_A young man's voice comes through, a bit softer._

Yeah, sure. And call me Danny, please.

_Psychologist:_ Alright, Danny it is. How are you feeling today?

Fine. Nobody's died yet today.

_Soft laughter._

_Psychologist:_ I've read your file, Danny, but it'd be nice if I heard everything from you. Is that okay?

Sure. You're the eighth counselor I've talked to. I'm used to it.

_Psychologist: _Why don't you start wherever you feel comfortable?

_Silence crackled on the tape before the young man's voice began to speak._

It all started when I was twelve. I wasn't very popular – I could count all my friends on one hand and still have enough fingers left over for making rude gestures at the people who didn't like me.

_A short burst of chuckling._

I guess… I guess I was afraid, you know, that I'd lose what few friends I did have. I didn't think it would hurt anybody and I didn't tell anyone about it.

_Silence._

_Psychologist: _What happened, Danny?

_Shifting sounds in the background._

I created a friend. Not some stupid imaginary friend like a four-year-old has got. I didn't set a place for him at the kitchen table and talk to him like he was really there. I knew he wasn't there. I just sometimes wished he could be. He was everything I ever wanted to be: cool, popular, confident… But he was _my_ best friend; he wouldn't run away and join the popular group. He would stay with me.

_Psychologist: _That must have been comforting, knowing he was there for you.

Yeah. Sometimes – after a hard day – I'd hide in that little space under the stairs, turn off that little light bulb and sit in the dark with the spiders and the ants and let my mind wander. There was a whole world we created, full of characters. A whole other life. In one, I was the looser that everyone picked on, in the other I was _somebody _– a hero, maybe.

Eventually my friends found out. When I was fourteen, they discovered the secret I had been keeping from them.

_Psychologist:_ They were pretty nice about it from what I heard.

They were.

_Silence._

They thought I was nuts, you know.

_Psychologist_: That's not what they said.

Inside, I knew that they thought I needed help. I probably did – I just didn't want to admit it. Not yet, anyway. They didn't talk about it much. They just kind of let me be and kept asking if I wanted them to help me. I kept saying no.

_Psychologist: _Why?

I didn't want to lose him. He was my best friend – he was like my brother. No matter what, he was there for me. I didn't want… to be alone, I guess.

_Psychologist:_ Your friends and family were there for you too.

I know. After they found out – first Sam and Tucker and then Jazz – my other world changed. My friends became a part of it. It was fantastic. I went from having one friend to having four. They were like my sidekicks.

_Psychologist:_ That sounds wonderful. I can see why it would be hard to get rid of.

Yeah.

_Silence._

_Psychologist:_ When did it change? When did it become a problem?

When I was seventeen.

_Silence._

_Psychologist: _The thing that happened at your school?

_Silence._

_Psychologist: _Danny?

Yeah, that was about then. So much stuff happened so fast.

_Psychologist: _Like what?

You already know.

_Psychologist: _But I want to hear it from you.

_Silence_.

Tucker dying. Lancer dying. The whole grandparents thing.

_Silence._

_Psychologist: _And?

Other… stuff.

_Silence._

_Psychologist:_ You need to tell me Danny.

Later.

_A sigh._

_Psychologist: _What happened next?

I was living in two worlds. One of them was horrible, the other was perfect. What do you think happened? I wanted to live in the one I liked better. I'd sit in the dark for hours, locked in my own little universe and forget about what was happening in the real world.

_Psychologist: _You were happy?

Yeah. It was the only time that I felt something other than being sad.

_Psychologist: _What happened to everybody else?

They got worried about me. Sam kept coming over and talking to me, trying to get me to go places with her. I finally ran away and hid from them in the park – a cave. But they found me and brought me home.

_Psychologist:_ How'd you feel about that?

That's not what I wanted. They wanted me to be part of a world I didn't want to be part of anymore. I kept running away, but they kept finding me. I think my father actually had me GPS chipped at some point.

_Silence_.

I finally couldn't take it anymore. They kept dragging me back to the real world. So I decided to run away to a place where they couldn't take me back.

_Psychologist: _Where's that?

It was a bad idea; I'm not sure what was going through my mind.

_Psychologist:_ Answer my question, Danny. Where did you run?

To my own world. I figured that's where I'd go when I didn't have to live that horrible life anymore.

_Psychologist:_ You tried to commit suicide.

_Silence._

Sam stopped me at the last minute. She was so scared… I don't think any of them knew how bad I really was. I was pretty good at hiding from them.

_Psychologist:_ What next?

My parents sent me to talk to the first psychologist. I was eighteen. It wasn't long after that I moved across the country. I didn't want to stay around there anymore – it was too hard.

_Psychologist:_ But you decided to move home now?

I'm 24 now – an adult in 197 different countries. I can handle things.

_Psychologist:_ Your friend is still there?

_Silence_.

Yes. He's the only person that never left me and never gave up on me. Him and Sam.

_Psychologist: _Your family doesn't think they gave up on you.

So they say.

_Silence._

_Psychologist:_ The notes from Dr. Garcia say that you got everything accomplished you wanted to during your time with her. So why are you here, Danny?

I want to get better.

_Psychologist: _What does that mean?

Better. I don't want to have two lives. I want to have _one_. I want to be able to have a life. I want to be normal.

_Psychologist: _You have a life, Danny. A much better one than you used to.

_Silence._

I spend hours sitting in front of the computer, playing some brainless game, my mind lost in its own little world. I don't answer the phone, I don't answer the door, I don't talk to anybody…

That's not normal.

_Psychologist: _No, but there are many different levels of normal.

I want to be _more_ normal. I want Sam to stop looking at me so sadly when I miss some date we were supposed to be on. I want to stop living a life that doesn't exist. I want to live _my_ life.

_Psychologist: _You think I can help you do this?

I hope you can.

_Psychologist: _Are you ready to give up a friend that you've had for twelve years?

He's not real.

_Psychologist: _He's real to you.

_Silence._

I want to have a life. With help, I can do it. I can give him up.

_Psychologist: _Okay then. You'll come back next week and we can get started?

Yes.

_Tape clicks off. _

* * *

Uploaded August 12, 2007  
Wrote this a while ago and was going to fix it up... but I have lost the desire to.  
If you couldn't figure it out, the 'imaginary' friend that Danny created was Phantom.  
Basically I'm saying that they whole thing (the show) happened in Danny's imagination.  
This is based off a true story.  
Thanks for reading!!


	53. Ghostly Love

_So. I've got a journal on DA where I post drabbles and bits of stories that are going nowhere, and really don't mean much. ChaosDragon has convinced me (it wasn't hard, but she gets props anywho) to load them up on FFN too. _

_Background to this story that won't be written: Danny and Sam are fighting a ghost (they NEVER do this in stories... right?), and Maddie/Jack show up. After a bit of work, Sam gets kidnapped and dragged into the Ghost Zone (GASP! This never happens either! I can't believe I came up with it.) and Danny has to rescue her (yup, so extremely original). He gets Maddie and Jack to help. The two humans take the specter speed and race towards the place, phazing through the walls in a search for Sam. Danny runs decoy. But... it was a TRAP! (oh yes, you SO did not see that coming, as it's such an original storyline) Maddie and Jack get thrown into the same cage as Sam. Thus the drabble starts._

_All sarcasm aside... can you see why I'm never going to write it? It really has been done a million different ways. _

_

* * *

_

**Ghostly Love  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

The door creaked open, jerking Maddie Fenton out of her quiet musings. Three ghosts stomped into the small room - a lithe, white-haired figure suspended unconsciously between two larger ghosts - and came up to the cage door. With some dark mutterings and more than a little swearing, the two larger ghosts managed to yank open the cage and toss Phantom into the cage. They slammed the door shut and stormed out of the room, laughing and punching each other's arms.

Sam was at Phantom's side before he had even rolled to a complete stop. She knelt down next to him and ran her hands over his face, whispering to him. Eyes closed, Phantom didn't appear to hear her at all. Maddie shook her head in vague surprise - she knew that most of the girls had some sort of crush on the ghost, but she hadn't figured a girl as solidly grounded as Sam would fall as well. Didn't she realize how dangerous the ghost was? What if he woke up and reacted before he figured out that it was a human girl kneeling over him?

Maddie pushed herself to her feet and glanced over at her husband. Jack was flickering glances at the girl and the ghost boy, a confused look on his face. "Sam," she said softly. Taking a few steps, Maddie put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Sam."

"He'll be fine," Sam said sharply.

"Sam, he's dangerous. You should get away from him."

The girl looked up at her, violet eyes sparkling. "Danny's not _dangerous_! He's a hero!"

Maddie bit back a sigh and tried to make her expression understanding. "Yes, but he's unpredictable. He might hurt you and not realize it until it's too late."

Sam looked back down at Phantom. "He wouldn't ever hurt me," she whispered forcefully.

"Not on purpose." Maddie pulled the girl to her feet. "Let him wake up before you get too close."

Sam shook her head, jerking her arm out of Maddie's grasp. "No. I'm not leaving him."

Maddie opened her mouth to argue some more, but Phantom groaned at that moment. His head rolled to the side a few times, then his electric eyes flew open and he jerked to a sitting position. Maddie stumbled back a few steps as he scanned the small cell, his gaze flickering from person to person for a quiet heartbeat. Then he moaned and collapsed back down onto the ground, his hand coming up to massage his head as his eyes closed again. "What hit me," he muttered.

Sending one last glare in Maddie's direction, Sam dropped back down into a crouch. "We got kidnapped."

Phantom murmured something that sounded strangely like "Again?" and his eyes drifted open. "Any idea who it was?"

Sam shook her head. "You okay?" At Phantom's annoyed look, she grinned and said, "Sorry, standard question."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Phantom pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Good," Sam said, her eyes narrowing. "Then I won't feel so sorry for this." Her hand came back and clenched into a fist.

Maddie watched in horror as Sam punched the ghost in the shoulder. Didn't she realize how dangerous that ghost was? Maddie took a reflexive step forwards to grab the girl, but Phantom moved faster than her. His eyes flared and he leaned forwards, his nose inches from Sam's. "What was that for?" he snapped.

Maddie froze, unwilling to break the impossible tension that existed between the girl and the ghost. With the intense energy that was zapping through him, there was no doubt at all in her mind that he could destroy Sam without a second thought.

"_That_," Sam hissed back, her violet eyes gazing into his without fear, "was for ignoring everything we've been working on for a month!"

"What?" Maddie whispered as Phantom said the same thing, only a lot louder. Maddie shook her head dazidly and turned her gaze to Jack for a second, looking for some sort of support. Sam and Phantom had been working together for at least a month? Jack was still staring at the two of them in confusion. Didn't she realize how dangerous the ghost was?

"What?" Sam parroted, her hand coming up to poke Phantom's chest. "_Thinking_, Danny. Planning. Seeing an _obvious trap_ when it slaps you in the face."

Phantom's eyes lost quite a bit of their glow. He looked a little hurt, maybe. Maddie slid over to Jack and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"What did you think this was going to be, huh? They kidnapped me - I was _bait_," Sam continued harshly.

Shaking his head slowly, Phantom looked a little lost as he tried to come up with a come-back. Maddie slipped down into crouch next to Jack and watched the impossible scene unfold before her. Sam, a human girl, was absolutely destroying the powerful ghost boy and he wasn't even fighting back.

"What were you thinking?" Sam asked, her eyes glowing almost as fiercely as the ghost's were.

"I..." Phantom's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out anymore. A look of surprised confusion was filling his face.

"Well?" Sam poked him one last time.

"I couldn't," the boy said softly, pulling away from her and putting some distance between them for the first time.

"You couldn't," Sam scoffed, "why not?"

Phantom shook his head sourly and pushed himself to his feet. Sam was on her feet a spilt second behind him, repeating her question. "Why not, Danny?"

"I couldn't," he whispered, turning away from her and pacing away from them all.

Sam dogged him, touching his shoulder. "_Why not_?"

Maddie shivered at the morose and painful look on his face when he turned back to face Sam. For a second, Phantom stood still, staring straight at the girl, but then he focused down on his feet and muttered something impossibly quiet.

"What?" Even though Sam was the one that said it, Maddie found herself leaning forwards in anticipation of the answer. Most of her brain was screaming at her that this was an incredibly dangerous spirit with his back pressed against a wall, but part of her was wondering at his answer. What could have kept such a powerful ghost from stopping and thinking before racing into what was (in hindsight) obviously a trap?

Phantom shuffled his feet. "I couldn't think," he said, softly but clearly, "because they had you." His eyes came up to meet hers. "I couldn't stop, I had to do _something_..."

Blinking in surprise, Sam took a small step backwards. "You stopped and thought before you rescued Tucker last week."

Maddie could feel her stomach twisting as she gazed at the torutured expression on Phantom's face. A revelation was sparkling in her mind that completely wiped out the worry about Tucker getting kidnapped last week. This thing that had Phantom so worked up - it was something special. Something between a girl and a boy...

"That was different," Phantom murmured.

Sam was watching him, confusion twisting her features. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

The ghost shook his head. Maddie's heart skipped a beat. She knew very well what the ghost boy meant by his crypic words. She knew exactly what it was that he had realized under Sam's punishing questioning. Now there was only the question about what she was going to do about it.

There was no way that a ghost could be allowed to fall in love with a human.

* * *

Written August 22, 2007  
I'll post another later. ;)  
Thanks for reading!


	54. Molasses

_Another drabble from my DA account, moved over here. Annabelle-Lee and I ended up talking about snails and molasses for some reason and this came from, well, that rather odd conversation. ;) It's from a viewpoint I've never done before. Fun. :D_

_

* * *

_

**Molasses  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

He dropped into a squat, yanking open the cupboards and digging through the things sitting on the shelves. "It's got to be here," he muttered darkly and he yanked out bottle after bottle, barely glancing at the labels before setting them aside. "Where is..." 

With a sigh, he held a darkly-colored bottle up to the light, examining how much was left. "Finally. Astor's Molasses." He clunked the glass bottle onto the counter, flicked the doors shut, and wiped his slightly-dusty hands on his 'football chef of the year!' apron.

He checked the recipe one last time before grabbing the tablespoon measuring spoon and holding it out over the bowl full of ketchup, oil, water, and a variety of spices. "Two tablespoons," he breathed as he tipped the bottle of molasses over. His eyes were bright as he focused on the neck of the bottle, waiting for the thick liquid to come pouring out. "Come on... come on..."

He waited. And waited. Finally he just moaned and held the bottle up to the light again. The viscous fluid had barely moved. He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself and trying to figure out a way to get the stuff out of the bottle. His family's barbeque sauce just wasn't going to work without the molasses, and he wasn't going to use that store-bought _garbage_ that Dash brought over.

His quiet mussings were interrupted by a scream that originated from his back yard. Kwan set the bottle down, turning to head outside to see what the problem was. Hopefully no one had leaned against the charcoal grill - that thing got _really_ hot.

He didn't get very far. Dash skidded into the kitchen, tripping over the mat on the floor and nearly braining himself on the counter. "GHOST!" he gasped, face pale, and vanished farther into the house.

Kwan froze, staring after Dash. Ghosts were a very bad thing, usually, in Amity Park. Smart money was on running in the other direction... but Paulina and Star hadn't come in yet. Where were they? With one last glance at the door that lead to the relative safety of the house, Kwan stepped up the back door and peeked outside.

Star was nowhere to be seen, but Paulina was standing in the middle of the yard, staring up at a giant... snail. The transparent shell was nearly as tall as his house and the two eyestalks were slowly weaving back and forth. Gooey trails of slimy ectoplasm were dripping off the bug's skin and dropping onto the ground like olympic-sized water balloons.

And Paulina was just standing there. Kwan stepped out of the kitchen, the spoon he had been intending to use to mix up his barbeque sauce still in his hand, with the half-thought to do _something_.

"The Ghost Boy will save me," Paulina prayed, taking a small step backwards as her face twisted from disgust into elation. "He can't let me be eaten by a big, slimy bug."

"Paulina!" Kwan yelled, "RUN!"

"The Ghost Boy will save me," she just repeated and closed her eyes. "He's my hero." The snail slid closer, a slime-bomb splattering onto the ground just in front of Paulina. She gave a small scream when the cold goo began to soak into her clothes. "Eww... PHANTOM!"

Kwan shook his head in astonishment. She was being so stupid, thinking Phantom was following her around everywhere and would swoop down to rescue her. The spectral hero was no where to be seen, so _he_ needed to do something. "Snails, snails... what stops ghost snails?" Kwan paced back and forth on the small porch, thinking.

The snail crept closer to Paulina.

Her disgusted scream jolted Kwan into movement. He raced back into the kitchen, knocking things over as he searched for something... _anything_. A small box of baking powder coated the floor in a dusting of white, followed quickly by a bottle of vanilla. "That's it!" he yelped as he spotted a round can hidden in the back of the cupboard. "I'm coming Paulina!"

He skidded back through the kitchen, almost tripping on the rug Dash had fallen over. Catching himself on the countertop, he didn't even notice when he jousled the bottle of molasses and sent it crashing to the floor. After tripping down the porch steps, he stumbled onto the grass and took off across the yard. He slid to a stop in the snail-slime next to Paulina.

"Go away!" he shouted, yanking open the top of his can and grabbing a hand-full of salt and tossing it into the air. The salt scattered against the immense belly of the ghost-snail, fizzling and bubbling. An impossibly low roar of pain vibrated through the air, rubbled the ground, and sent the gooey Paulina falling to her knees.

Kwan stared up at the impossibly large snail, his face growing pale as the knowledge of what he had just done settled into his brain. He had just completely pissed off the biggest insect on the planet. It was probably a snail he had squished at some point, as well. Now _he_ was going to get squished...

His shaking hand dug back in to the salt container and grabbed another handful. "AHH!" he screamed, throwing handfuls of salt at the giant snail. "Stay away, stay away, STAY AWAY!" Salt littered the ground, bubbles of ectoplasm bursting and covering both of them in cold goo, white crystals scattering into the sky and making their eyes burn. Both of them shut their eyes and Paulina let out another yelped scream.

The snail was still coming closer - it's slow but steady momentum impossible to stop. But, little by little, the snail seemed to be _shrinking_. At one point, Kwan's frenzied emptying of the salt can changed from tossing salt blindly at a giant stretch of slimy belly, to handfuls in its 'eyes', to throwing it over its gooey head. When Kwan's panicked hands finally scrabbled against the bottom of the can, he let his eyes crack open.

The snail was moving slowly along the grass, barely larger than his shoe. Kwan let out a giddly little laugh and kicked the ghost-snail out of the backyard, watching it phase through the fence. The nearly-empty can of salt dropped from his fingers and banged against Paulina's knee. She shrieked at the contact, her eyes still clamped shut and goo dripping down her face, stumbled to her feet and raced into the house. She nearly knocked over Star, who had clammored out of the bushes and was standing by the porch, mouth wide, her camera snapping pictures.

"Now you run?" Kwan muttered, still trembling from the adrenaline that was rushing through his system. "Girls."

He turned and walked slowly back into the house, wiping gobs of slime off of his apron. He hesitated at the kitchen and stared at the mess. White powder strieked the floor, billowed in the soft breeze, and oozed where it mixed with the ectoplasm that had dripped off of Paulina. Star reached up and touched his arm, pushing him into the room. Slowly, almost dismally, Kwan picked the broken bottle of molasses up from where he had knocked it earlier.

Staring down at the half-full bottle of molasses, its top neatly cracked off, Kwan snorted. He grabbed the tablespoon measuring spoon and scooped out two heaping tablespoons of molasses and plopped them into his home-made barbeque sauce, rolling his eyes when a glob of snail-goo joined the molasses in the bowl. "It can't taste _worse_," he sighed and mixed up the sauce.

Star, who was sitting at the kitchen table and looking over the pictures in her digital camera, looked up and gave him a weird look. "You're still doing the barbeque after all that?" She walked over and raised an eyebrow at the now slightly-glowing barbeque sauce. "I'm not eating any of it."

Kwan shrugged and grinned. "Me either, but remember that I don't get blamed when the barbequed chicken gets up off the grill and runs away, okay?"

The blonde girl giggled and nodded before showing him a picture of Paulina, covered in slime. "Only in Amity Park."

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Uploaded August 23, 2007  
Yup. That's a drabble. (snicker)  
Thanks for reading. ;)


	55. New Years Revelations

_A third drabble from my DA journals. Warnings for sweet-stickiness. :P FLUFFY!_

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**New Years Revelations  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Sam looked up from her curled position on her couch, startled by the ring of the doorbell. She untangled her fingers from her hair and set down her book, casting a glance at the ancient grandfather clock - 9:27PM. Sure, it was New Year's Eve, but who would be knocking at her door at this time of night? Tucker and Danny never came over on this particular holiday. They had something that they did with their families, and they wouldn't bother her...

Or at least that's what she believed until she opened up the door. Danny was standing on the step, shifting his weight from foot to foot with his hands buried deep into his coat pockets. He sent her a grin, but when she opened the door to let him in, he shook his head. "I can't stay, Sam, but I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us to the party?"

_Party?_ Sam cocked her head to the side and raised one skeptical eyebrow. If the Fentons were involved, it'd have to have something to do with ghosts, but Danny mearly shook his head again. "No ghosts... other than me. Well, at least for now. So - you want to come? It's fun!"

She smiled and nodded, grabbing her coat and yelling at her parents that she was leaving. Danny snatched her hand the minute the door had clicked shut. "Everybody else's already there, let's go!" He proceeded to drag her up the icy sidewalk. "We've still got a ways to go."

Chocking back her protest when she noticed the Fentons leaning against the front gate, Sam's mouth dropped open. A rather scraggly... and slight _glowing_... evergreen was lying on its side on the sidewalk. Attached to various places on the trunk were four ropes. Three ropes drapped their way into the hands of Mr. Fenton, Mrs. Fenton, and Jazz.

The last rope had been dropped onto the ground, but Danny scooped it up and sent her another grin. "I know, I know - killing the trees just for the holidays is wrong, amoral, and prejudiced to trees. But this one was going to die anyway. We're giving it a nice burial, okay?"

Sam let a small smile grace her lips. Of course it was okay to her. She still didn't like the idea of cutting down perfectly _healthy_ trees for such a short holiday - especially since there were so many other environmentally friendly and much better looking artificial trees that could be purchased at a department store. Danny just smiled at her as the Fentons started to drag the tree down the snow-covered sidewalk, listening to her rant about the horrors of what it would be to be a Christmas tree.

Quiet surrounded them as the snow started to drift down out of the sky. Not really a blizzard, not to Sam's eyes, just a pretty dusting. Illuminated only by the cascading light of the street lamps, the laughing and chatting family looked like something off of a postcard. She still wondered where they were going, but every time she asked Danny, he'd just smile. "Wait for it, Sam, it's really neat."

"Amity Park!" Jazz exclaimed after a few for minutes of work, her breath fogging in the chill air. "Finally. I just hope we're not late." She nudged her brother, sending him a small wink. "You just _had_ to stop and pick up your girlfriend, huh?"

Sam bristled, ready to deny the comment, but Danny just shrugged, looking ahead, not seeming to be listening. "We're here!" he cheered and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Sam!"

Leaving the rest of the family in their dust, Danny and Sam raced through the dark park. Sam skidded and slipped on a patch of ice that was on the trail that led to the lake. She felt Danny's hands grabbing her before she could hit the ground and heard his chuckle. "You really shouldn't try to fly unless you know how. The falling's not so fun." Sam, once she was back on her feet, aimed an annoyed punch in his direction, but smiled to let him know that she really didn't mean it.

Then they were there. The lake had frozen into a crystal mirror, it's surface thick and strong, the ice hazy and snow-covered. Their trail had been shoveled and plowed out onto the lake, twisted and turning into the darkness. And out in the middle of the lake...

Sam gasped. The center of the lake had been cleared of snow and was lit up with dozens - if not hundreds - of tiny flashlights. They illuminated the sight of milling people, tables set with food and drinks, and a huge pile of trees. The happily decorated Christmas trees had been stripped of their joyful decorations and had been carefully set up well away from the partying people. Questions jumped to her tounge and she stood there, observing the odd sight.

"They start the bonfire at 10, and the fireworks at midnight." Danny cocked his head to the side, listening to the faint chatter that filtered through the snowy night. "We're not late, then, if the music hasn't started yet." He grabbed her hand once more and began to drag her towards the party area.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sam wondered if they should wait for his family. Danny shook his head. Sam saw the distant glow of the tree as the rest of the Fentons appeared out of the small forest, dragging the tree towards the lake.

"Ah! The annual Fenton Tree has arrived." Sam twisted her head around to look for the familiar voice. Mr. Lancer was wrapped up in a plaid jacket, an old and battered bomber hat perched on his balding head. "We didn't want to start until it got here. Nice to see you this year, Ms. Manson."

She fumbled through a greeting, still confused as to what was going on. When Mr. Fenton finally pushed the spectrally-infused tree into place at the front of the pile of trees, music suddenly burst into existance and Sam jumped slightly.

"Come on, Sam," Danny said, dragging her towards the bank of snow that seperated the party-area from the tree-area. "You gotta see this." She stopped next to him, watching as the other partiers arrayed themselves along the snowbank to watch the trees. One of the jacket-clad partiers was jogging through the layer of snow, a long line trailing out of his hand. He stopped when he reached the snowbank and carefully shone a flashlight over the pile of trees.

Then he flicked off his searchlight and, within seconds, nearly every other flashlight vanished, leaving them in nearly complete darkness. The music, which had been playing for only a few minutes, faded into nothingness. In the silence, Sam could hear the breathing of the people around her and - so she imagined - the soft sounds of the snow settling down onto the ground.

A small burst of light from the pile of trees startled her into a small jump again, her eyes training on the trees through the darkness and clutching a bit tighter at Danny's hand. Questions died on her tounge as small licks of flame began to flicker and glow in the darkness. She watched, entranced, as the trees exploded into color and light - the bonfire that Danny had mentioned earlier.

As the crackling sounds of the burning boughs began to reach their ears, the assembled partiers quietly began to sing. A normally happy and carefree song suddenly became a mornful funeral pyre for the assembled symbols of freedom and giving. "Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree..." Sam blinked, bringing her free hand up to brush at her face in surprise. A random tear had slipped from her eye and had been leaving a freezing trail down her cheek. She listened to the haunting tune in a respectful silence, taking a deep breath when the last notes finally faded into the snow-covered silence. For a heartbeat, everybody stood in frozen attendance to the death of their holiday-filled year.

Music burst back into life and the assembled partiers slipped back into their previous conversations, their party lit only by a few flashlights and the chattering glow of the enormous bonfire. Hot chocolate bubbled inside of cups that were being held in fluffy gloves.

Hours passed in a simply gloreous manner for the young Goth. She hung next to Danny, smirking at the various other Casper High-ers that they ran in to throughout the night. Music played, people danced, friends mingled and conversed, the bonfire crackled, and the snow settled down around them. By the time the end of the year arrived, Sam's black and purple hat was dusted with a fine layer of white that glowed by the flickering flashlights. As it was, she ended up next to Danny and his family when the nearby church began to toll out the new year.

"One, two, three," Danny counted softly under his breath, his blue eyes shinning in the dark as the bell rang out. "Nine, ten..."

Sam held her breath, her stomach knotting up as she _knew_ that something was going to happen at the stroke of twelve. Quietly, she counted those last two seconds with her best friend, her eyes searching the glowing darkness, her voice barely audible above the chanting of the rest of the crowd.

When the last bell boomed out over the still night, cheers rang out and people grabbed the person next to them for a kiss. Sam hesitated, watching Danny out of the corner of her eye and he turned his face towards the sky. Would she get a New Year's kiss?

Danny's eyes widened, a grin splitting his face. "Sam," he whispered, sending her a quick glance, "don't jump."

She was just about to ask why when the first firework exploded in the sky. Blushing brightly as soon as her feet touched the ground again, she sent a scowl towards the laughing boy next to her. She shook her head, a sigh escaping her as the fireworks colored the sky like a giant modern art piece. Her eyes trained onto the sky, appropriately ooo-ing and aaah-ing like the rest of the crowd.

The butterflies had settled down in her stomach from the angst of the New Year, and Danny had been pushed almost out of her mind once more. As a humongous purple flower appeared in the snowy sky, and hand suddenly touched her shoulder. She turned, looking over at her best friend.

"You know," he said hesitantly, "it's bad luck to start off a new year without getting a kiss from a pretty girl."

Sam rolled her eyes, her stomach curling in on itself. He was going to go search out Paulina or Valerie now. Probably he'd have to stand in line to get to Paulina - every guy in the school would be wanting _her_ kiss. She opened her mouth to tell him what to do with this desire to kiss that shallow witch when he leaned forwards and...

...kissed her.

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Uploaded August 24, 2007  
Told you it was ooey-gooey. :D   
Thanks for reading.


	56. A Day in the Life

_Drabble Four. ;) Pure Paulina Bashing! I'll admit that._

_Oh yeah, and ChaosDragon is doing the DP FanFic awards (http :// dpfanficawards. livejournal. com/ - delete the spaces) so you should go check it out and vote for your favorite DP authors! (hint, hint, nudge, nudge) D_

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**A Day in the Life  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Once upon a time, there was a girl who hated Saturday mornings with a vengeance. 

There was absolutely nothing worse to the girl than her papá walking into her room at eight o'clock in the morning to wake her up: his bright, happy smile as he flipped open her curtains to reveal the raising sun; his cheerful chuckle when she burrowed deeper into her satin pillows; his deep voice as he sat on the edge of her bed and chatted at her until she rolled out from under soft, warm covers to get ready for the day. Only when her feet had touched the carpet would he get up and wander out the door, leaving her to get ready.

Approximately and hour and forty-five minutes later, the girl would enter the kitchen, dressed in her regal splendor, to eat the breakfast her papá had just finished making for her. A quick kiss on the cheek, a check of her Sayonara Pussycat backpack to make sure all the 'essentials' were packed, and she was out the door. She wasn't really awake… but she was up and out the door and on her way to meet her friends at the café at ten.

In her half-asleep state, she passed by the stray dog sniffing around her gate without a second glance. But the dog – a puppy, really – looked up, his green eyes following the girl who smelled so wonderful. The dog would have ultimately ignored the girl and gone back to chasing squirrels… except he suddenly noticed the biggest kitty-cat squeaky toy he had ever seen. So he followed her, trying desperately to figure out why a human girl would have a squeaky toy attached to her back.

The two oblivious creatures slipped deeper into town, one focused completely on waking up, the other on the squeaky toy dancing a few feet in front of his eyes. At one point they passed a darkened alley, neither one registering the surprised and exhausted green eyes that were glowing dimly in the shadows. Floating out into the sun-lit morning, a ghostly boy in black tipped his head to the side, watching them go. But with a massive yawn, he merely shrugged and turned away. Tightening the lid on his thermos, he vanished towards home with the hope of getting a few hours of sleep, figuring the pretty Hispanic girl and the odd, glowing puppy would be fine for a bit.

Oh, how wrong the poor ghost-boy was.

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"Star!" Paulina shouted, pushing energy into her tired voice. Waving her hand over her head and setting an excited smile on her face, she pushed through the small crowd that always formed outside the local café on Saturday mornings. "Dash! Kwan!" 

"Morning Paulina," Dash mumbled, his attention focused on her feet.

For a few seconds, the still sleepy Paulina gazed at her friends in disbelief. None of them – not even Star – had mentioned her new top. Instead, all three of them seemed determined to stare at her shoes. Finally it occurred to Paulina to look down. She gasped, stepping away from the perrito that had planted himself inches from her feet, tail wagging slowly in the gutter.

"Why is there a puppy following you around?" Star finally asked.

Paulina looked up at her, confusion evident on her face. "He's not my dog," she said. "Shoo!" She waved at the greenish dog, trying to get him to leave. "Go away!"

"He doesn't look too healthy." Kwan knelt down beside the puppy, holding out his hand to be sniffed. The dog ignored him, his attention completely focused on Paulina. "Maybe we should take him to the shelter."

"Maybe he should just leave me alone," Paulina scowled when the dog sidled back up to her shoes, not in the mood to be nice this morning. "Let's just go. He'll wander home on his own."

Star looked like she might argue for a moment, but she just nodded and grabbed the door to the café, holding it open for the queen of Casper High. Paulina sauntered in, moving straight to the ordering line. "I'll have a double mocha latte with crushed ice and sliced banana," she said, glancing surreptitiously behind her to make sure the others had followed and left the perrito feo outside.

To her delight, they had. "Give me…" Star hesitated, biting her lip, "um… a… decaf latte with lemon, please."

"A triple espresso," Dash added instantly.

Kwan was silent. "The poor dog," he muttered, his head still turned towards the door. Paulina narrowed her eyes, turning just enough to glare at the creature slobbering at the window. "We really should do something," Kwan added.

"Ignore him and he'll just go away." Rolling her eyes, Paulina collected her drink, but hesitated. The four of them always sat at the same table – the one right next to the window where the perrito was waiting. Murmuring dark threats under her breath, she marched up to the table and took her rightful seat, dropping her Sayonara Pussycat backpack by her feet. "Ningún perrito estúpido me espantará."

She waited impatiently for her friends, staring at the annoying dog. Green eyes gazed lovingly at her shoes, oversized front paws rested on the windowsill, slobber dripped from his mouth. The silvery-black tag on its spiked collar glinted in the morning sunlight.

"I think he's cute," Star said when she slid into her seat, startling Paulina out of her reverie. "Who do you think he belongs to?"

"I don't care," Paulina muttered. She picked up her latte and sipped at it, smiling at the faint chocolate-coffee taste. Finally she would be able to wake up. "Where are we going after this? The mall is having that early…"

"He's still here?" Dash interrupted, dropping into his normal seat by the window.

"Yes." Seething, Paulina gripped her cup a bit tighter, closing her eyes. "Can we ignore the thing? We need to decide what we're going to do today."

Kwan sat down, grinning at the dog. Without looking up at his friends, he said, "I think…"

"AH!" Paulina jumped to her feet and glared at her friends. "Enough. I'm getting rid of the stupid dog already. Then will you be happy?" Fuming at the insanity of the world, she stormed out of the café, leaving her backpack behind. She crouched down next to the sick-looking perrito and picked him up, cradling him close as she tried to read his shiny dog tag.

The dog, however, was wiggling in her arms, frantically attempting to see through the window. Paulina turned away, trying to force the puppy to hold still for just a few moments. Freezing, the perrito looked up at her, blinking his glowing, green eyes, a happy smile appearing on his face. Suddenly, the dog was gone.

Paulina stood there for a moment, staring down at her empty hands. Then she wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion, bringing one hand up to her head. She felt strangely dizzy. Closing her eyes, trying to settle her stomach, she held perfectly still and waited for the feeling to pass.

Instead, it grew. Blackness nibbled at the corners of her mind, thoughts beginning to tumble into the abyss. "I need to get my backpack," she mumbled softly, baffled by the weird desire. "I want my backpack." Nothing else in the universe mattered at that moment.

As the last of her conscious thoughts drifted out of her grasp, Paulina smiled, opening her glowing eyes. "I want my squeaky toy."

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Uploaded August 25, 2007  
Aye. Poor Paulina.  
Thanks for reading. :D


	57. The House

_My grandmother (the wonderful lady that gave me the nickname of 'Kori' - now Cori) always told stories like this one, round-about and full of questions, everything in the stories being about to 'think' and 'feel'. I have to say that it's MUCH more interesting when you actually get to listen to the story, watch her actions, hear the intonation of her voice and the suspenseful way she could talk. She'd get louder and softer, lean in, use big gestures and sound effects, always chiding you for jumping too far ahead in the story or forgetting a part (often accompanied by a slap on the back of the head or a waggling finger). :D _

_My grandmother is a unique character in and of herself. I loved listening to her tell us stories, even though they often had weird and crazy endings. You'll probably see what I mean by this when you read this. It's... interesting. I tried my best to write it in her style, full of questions and complaints and odd metaphors and all in present tense. Writing in present tense was the hardest, but Grandma would never tell a story in past tense - she always said that stories are unraveling as you tell them so you do them a disservice to tell them as if they already happened - so I had no choice._

_You'll have to tell me how well I did. _

_Oh, and I apologize ahead of time for not replying to your reviews. FFN is going wonkers on me and I can't reply to reviews. Haven't been able to send anything in over a month!! _

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**The House**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Oh, reader, I fear that I must start my tale with the infamous and overused 'twas a dark and stormy night'. The wind lashes the trees mercilessly and the rain speeds towards the ground like a million rounds of ammunition dropped from the blackened clouds. On such a night, one can easily assume that every smart and sentient being in the area is holed up somewhere safe: squirrels are snuggled into their nests, raccoons are curled up under porches, and humans have dropped onto warm sofas in front of flickering televisions.

I can see you, reading this, rolling your eyes at the oft-used cliché and trying to guess who would be out in such an epic rainstorm. The hero, you may say, bravely battling the eternal elements to protect the helpless. Or perhaps the villain jumps to mind, hunched over with the rain splattering onto a midnight-colored cloak as he conducts his dark purposes. Perhaps the most astute of you are quietly reveling in the fact that you decided that both protagonist and antagonist would be out in my storm.

In fact, the correct answer would be neither. The young, strong, and inevitably handsome hero has chosen to sleep through the thunder and lightning in his own warm bed. My evil and corrupt villain is likewise curled up in the blankets of his bed... although not nearly as asleep. He is hunched over a small laptop computer, searching the internet for various and rather dubious sites. If either of them gave a thought to the howling storm or to their predestined role in my story, it was to such a small degree that it is inconsequencial to this particuar tale.

Are you confused yet, dearest reader? Perhaps you are wondering why I bothered to even describe the turbulent weather if I was just going to ensconce my two characters in their respective beds? That is an excellent question, and I applaud your mind for wondering about such a thing. For, you see, the storm is important. That storm is a character all to itself.

But don't get ahead of me quite yet. I can read your thoughts, you see, and I can tell you now that the storm is neither supernatural nor magic in any way. It is not a ghost nor an alien, it will not cause them to switch bodies, and it will not do any number of the things that have wandered into your mind. Sometimes a storm is just a storm - this is one of those cases.

As my beautiful storm flashes and grumbles outside, let's leave the slumbering hero and surfing villain to travel to yet a third house. This house is small and decrepid, unnoticable on a good day and practically invisible in the darkness. Inside, you'd imagine a starving child curled up next to the remnants of a fire, or perhaps a dying grandmother shivering under a ratted blanket. Again, dear reader, no. This particular house is vacant of life, except for a house cat and a few rats that live under the rotting floorboards. The young house cat I mentioned glances through a broken window at the pouring rain and yawns once before slinking down the creaking steps into the basement to chase an overly-brave rat. To the cat (and the doomed rat) it's just another storm.

What kind of story is this you ask? A storm with no paranormal value, a sleeping hero, an uninterested villian, and an empty shack? What can these four things have in common?

Ah... this would be where the story should begin, I suppose. After all this reading, one would expect to actual come across some sort of storyline, and I suppose that's only fair. Let's start with the old house.

It sits at the end of Mulberry Street, one ancient shoulder set into the wind and broken windows glaring balefully into the whipping rain. The house is unaware of the fact that it has been unoccupied for the past fifteen years, it only knows what houses are supposed to know. One of the things it understands is that it doesn't like storms at all. The fierce gales are causing its walls to creak and groan. It has no idea what's coming, and it really doesn't care.

The storm raging through the cozy town fights against the house like it does every few weeks when storms roll through. It despises the fact that its strongest winds and harshest rains can't break even this broken-down building. In desperation and frustration, the storm sends a bolt of lightning fizzling through the boiling air. The bright flash of light latches onto something tall next to the old house and smites an unsuspecting elm tree. The storm, since it is just a storm, feels no guilt as the magestic tree shrieks and topples to the ground. It only feels a twinge of anger that the tree hadn't been considerate enough to fall on the decrepit little cottage.

The epic battle between the storm and the house passes by unnoticed by the human population of the small town. Even the dramatic destruction of the ancient elm tree doesn't merit much more than a glance out of kitchen windows. The storm is, to human eyes, just another storm. To the humans of Amity Park, the house is just another house.

But you know better, don't you reader? Even though they are just a storm and a house, you know very well that they are _the_ storm and _the_ house - and that means something. You might have even tried to guess who would have noticed the war being waged at the end of Mulberry Street. Perhaps, by this point, you are right.

As the thunder rolls around the town, boasting of how powerful it is to take out an entire tree with one blow, the hero rolls over in his bed, disturbed by something that he can't quite understand. An eye opens, scanning the darkness of his bedroom, searching for something that isn't there. Even though there is no war being fought at his house - his strong, brick row house has its arms firmly crossed and its heels dug in, easily keeping the storm at bay - the primeval battle taking place across town has woken him. Or he might have been woken up by the thunder proclaiming its greatness to the stars, I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter in the long run, for this story we only care that he is now awake.

The hero slides out of bed and pads over to the window of his stalwart home, gazing out at the raging storm. A curious accident has left him a bit closer to nature than the average human, and he quietly understands the impossible power of the rain. He listens to the echoing laughter of the thunder and mourns for the fallen tree like the old house will never be able to. The house is, after all, merely a house and can't possibly understand why the tree has collapsed.

After a few moments, our brave hero shakes his head and turns around to go back to bed. Even to the most dedicated hero, a tree is just a tree and not something to lose sleep over. But just before he is able to slide between the still warm sheets, he hears something. A noise.

Yes, dear reader, he hears a scream. So he does what heroes must do in such a situation - he turns away from his bed with a sigh and heads back to the window. A flash of light later and he takes to the sky.

The storm doesn't like this, not at all. Storms know very little - that's just the way storms are, you can't really complain about it - but it does know that storms are responsible for flashes of light. In the storm's mind, the young hero has just stolen one of its most sacred duties. And the storm, in a fashion that only true storms can pull off, gets mad.

The wind gusts like never before, buffeting the hero as he searches the town for the source of the scream. Rain slashes down like needles, thunder screams and rages, and lightning sizzles the air around the hero. He glances up at the storm, well aware of how furious the elements are at him, but unwilling to give up his quest.

He works his way along the empty streets, his blazing gaze diving deeply into the shadows of the alleys. Over and over again, he is tossed into buildings and thrown onto the street by the furious wind. Finally the hero gives in slightly to the awesome power of the storm and takes to walking down Mulberry Street. He ducks below awnings and creeps along the buildings, trying desperately to stay out of the rain as he searches for the source of the scream. Don't ask the same question that I am, dear reader, for not even the hero really knows why he is working so hard to stay dry when he's already soaking wet.

His white hair is hanging wetly in his eyes when the fallen elm tree finally comes into view near the end of Mulberry Street. You know as well as I what else is at the end of Mulberry Street, but the young hero can't see anything. The house is practically invisible as it defends itself from the fury of the storm. If anyone needs a hero at the moment, it is the decrepit cottage fighting a war it can't possibly win for much longer.

The storm figures that the hero will turn back at this point, but the hero is a bit more stubborn than the storm thinks. He struggles forward into the burnt of the storm, nearly blinded by the pouring rain. Totally focused on finding who has screamed, he passes right past the ancient house's mailbox without a second thought. Most likely, he can't even see it through the rain.

As the hero struggles in the rain, we must jump back to a character we have left behind. Yes, wonderful reader, the villain needs to make an appearance. What would a story be without a dark and fearful character? Undoubtedly, we would be lacking in heroes if all the villains simply decided to stay in bed. It is hard to be heroic when there are no crimes to foil.

The villain is still crouching beneath his blankets, staring blearily at his laptop, when the storm decides that a new tactic needs to be taken in the war against the decrepit house at the end of Mulberry Street. Unfortunately for our last remaining dry character, his house is a bit too close to Mulberry Street. In a brilliant flash of light and a horrific crash of sound, the power goes out all along Mulberry Street... and in the home of our devious villain. Perhaps the storm figures that the cottage on Mulberry Street will be a bit easier to destroy if it had no electricity. Or perhaps the tempest is merely a storm and figures nothing at all, I don't really know.

Our villain curses loudly when all the lights vanish. He glances up at the television that had been playing late-night infomercials seconds earlier and glares at the fanciful chandelier over his bed as if it were the light's fault the power had gone out. He could continue his morose internet surfing (as he has a laptop with a battery), but the internet has stopped as well. With a sigh, he runs his hand through his hair and closes his laptop, choosing to sit in the dark.

Which is why, I suppose, he manages to hear a scream. It comes between the loud rolls of thunder, sharp and piercing in the dark silence. The villain looks up, his eyes glinting in the shadows. He, like the hero, has suffered from an impossible accident that happened many years ago and has been left a few steps closer to nature than most of the humans around him. His ears are sharp, his senses acute. He listens to the storm happily announce its latest victory, straining to hear the scream again.

But he is, my reader, not the hero. He does not get out of his warm bed to traipse through the freezing wet darkness in search of something he can not find, not when he knows very well that our hero will be out as well. Instead, he chooses to set his computer onto the stand next to his bed, pull the soft blankets up around his shoulders, and drift off into sleep.

It does not last. Did I not say, mere paragraphs ago, that villains could _not_ chose to stay in bed? What kind of story would that be if all of our villains just went to sleep? When another scream splits the air, jolting the dark character out of his slumber, the villain has no choice but to throw on a coat and head out into the rainstorm, cursing under his breath. I can't help but wonder what he is thinking as he walks through the wall and into the blasting rain. I wonder which he cares about more: the safety of the screamer or his own inability to sleep through the screams. But I am merely the story teller, not a mind reader, so I will never know.

So now we have it - both hero and antagonist are out in the raging storm, both baring down on a particular place on Mulberry Street. All four of our characters in one spot at the same time. A pivotal turning point in the story. You know as well as I do that something is about to happen.

Two more steps, and the hero sees the villain for the first time. The young hero stumbles to a stop under the protection of a deserted porch and stares at the tall man slogging through the rain. He calls to the villain, raising his hand to form a ball of impossible light. The man looks up, his eyes widening as he sees the light and it's bearer. The cottage - still completely invisible in the darkness even though the boy is standing right on its porch - gasps silently at the display. No, reader, it does not gasp in an awestruck way. The gasp is an unheard declaration of horror.

The house knows what is going to happen next. As both humans look up in surprise at the almost-heard sound, the storm snarls and growls. The tempest paces back and forth, its winds blasting in fury, lighting crackling and rain lashing. As I said earlier, storms do not know a lot... but they do know their job very well. It is a _storm's_ job to make lights in the rain. It does not like the fact that the hero was making light. It does not like that at all.

Light - pure, natural light created by the wrath of nature - cascades out of the sky. The villain, being nothing more than a villain, cowers backwards away from the powerful display, his eyes wide in surprise. The hero stares at the bolt of lightning, barely having time to blink as it snaps towards him. The storm laughs in delight as it suddenly knows that it will destroy the unnatural light-maker.

It is the house that was already moving. Perhaps the ancient house at the end of Mulberry Street has decided to try and save the young hero. Perhaps it is merely the house's predestined time to die. Perhaps the snarling, enraged storm finally gets the best of the decrepit building. Any way that it has come to be, the house lets out an impossible groan... and collapses.

All of this happens faster than a heartbeat. The lightning is still crackling out of the sky, heading for the hero. Light slams into the building that has collapsed into its path. Unbelievable amounts of energy snap and scream in the air as they trace their way through the house's ancient wires. The storm shrieks in anger, its ear-splitting crash of thunder echoing for miles. The young hero screams as the house falls, his hands coming up in a futile gesture to protect himself from the descending timbers.

Then all is silent. The war between the house and the storm is finished... the storm the clear victor. Rain patters softly down onto Mulberry Street, a disbelieving villain staring at the rubble at his feet. There is a distant grumble from the storm, then it moves off. There are other battles to be fought. All that is left behind is the dark night sky, the quiet rain, and the shivering tall man.

Electricity flickers back on, a crooked streetlight buzzing as it suddenly bursts back into life. The villain blinks, shaking his head as if to throw off a fog that has descended into his mind. He takes a few steps forwards, calling for the young hero, probably wondering if the boy is alive. Stopping at the very edge of the ruins of the decrepit house, the villain listens carefully. His glinting eyes close as he focuses on what he can hear. Timbers creak, water drips, and he can almost hear the shack's final gasps as it dies. But he cannot hear any humans breathing.

What do you image will happen next, reader? Will the villain smile broadly at the demise of his character foil, dancing happily in the rain as he contemplates his next movements? Or will be cry out in despair as he suddenly realizes the evilness of his ways, searching endlessly through the wreckage to try and save the young hero's life? This particular time with this particular hero... he just stares, unable to decide what to feel.

Finally, still numb and unthinking, the villain turns away from the house and walks back up the street. He gives no mind to the death of the house, no thoughts to the celebrating storm vanishing in the distance, and never even wonders about the scream that had driven him out of his house in the first place. It takes just a few minutes for the villain to reach his house and enter it. He sits down on his bed, dripping and cold clothes forgotten, and gazes down at the floor.

Under the settling remains of the house, the small house cat opens her eyes. Do you remember the cat that was chasing the rat from the beginning of the story? The cat uncurls herself from her spot in the basement and slowly works her way through the broken boards that had once been a house. She stops next to a small pile of boards and tilts her head. Buried somewhere in the rubble is a cell phone that is ringing. Someone is trying to contact the young hero to tell him about the screams. There is a ghost just a few houses away that needs the fallen hero.

When the phone finally stops ringing, the cat gives a soft meow, jumps through a small hole, and vanishes into the darkness.

The End.

The moral of the story? Don't underestimate the raw power of nature... they can bring down even the strongest of us.

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Written September 9, 2007  
And to think that I saw this on Mulberry Street. (sorry, had to put it somewhere...)  
Thanks for reading!!


	58. Eternity

_Goopey. I had to do this to counteract 'Real Life'. I'm not too fond of it, I don't like to write fluffy stories. _

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**Eternity  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Few ghosts live alone. It takes a creature of pure will and determination (and a large dose of insanity) to exist for eternity all alone. 'The rest of time' is a very long time with nobody to spend it with. 

Johnny 13 had his shadow and his girl, who was curled up under his arm and watching the campfire. They had pitched a small tent, watched the sun set, and were just quietly basking in the presence of each other. Time could have stopped for them right then; there was no place in the universe they would rather have been. Johnny glanced down at Kitty, a soft smile crossing his face as he watched the firelight play on her beautiful features. For a moment, he knew that he was the luckiest ghost in the world. For these two, eternity was not long enough.

Huddled in a back alley, Spectra leaned closer to her partner and outlined their latest plan. This one, no doubt, would keep her and Bertrand young forever. Bertrand nodded eagerly about the plan, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. Eternal youth was a goal that they had been working towards for more than a century – and, based on their string of luck over that amount of time – would probably need the rest of eternity to achieve it. The two of them, together, could survive through anything.

Dora sank into her cushioned chair at the end of a long table, her beautiful eyes sparkling as she looked over at her brother. Sure, she and Aragon had their differences, but they were siblings in the end. Aragon glanced up from his plate, stuck out his tongue (which was coated in half-chewed food), and laughed at his younger sister's reaction. With a roll of her eyes, Dora lowered her head and tried to hide a smile at her brother's antics. She glanced up, startled, when she heard the clomp of boots on the medieval table. Aragon was standing over her, a cocky and powerful grin on his face. Then, without further ado, he launched the handful of mashed potatoes into her hair and vanished. Dora wiped the dripping food off of her head and chuckled quietly. She would get him back for that… she had all of eternity, after all.

He dropped through the air, his boney wings not making a sound as he came to perch on the boy's shoulder. The parrot-shaped ghost had cared for the boy in life, watching in despair as the young child had succumbed to the disease that would end up taking both of their lives. Glancing sideways at Young Blood, currently playing pirate and searching for a hidden treasure, the bird felt a small bit of warmth rise up inside of him. He clenched his boney claws into the boy's shoulder, and two curious green eyes glanced over at him. With a grin, Young Blood gestured at a garbled and horribly drawn map and carefully explained the plan. The bird listened carefully, nodding his head at even the craziest of plans. Of course, there really was no treasure to be found out in the Ghost Zone. Both the ghosts knew that. But they had each other… and perhaps that was enough treasure to last them an eternity.

The Box Ghost floated quietly in front of the Lunch Lady's door. For years, he had wanted to give her something – something that showed how much he had come to appreciate the ghost's personality. Ember swung her guitar up into her hands as she crouched in a tree, beginning to play a quiet tune into the depths of the Ghost Zone. Skulker, passing close by, stopped at the song and listened to the beautiful music. Clockwork sighed as he listened to the endless droning of the latest Observant to wander into his lair, knowing full well that he was stuck with them for eternity.

Walker had Bullet; Frostbite had his clan; the Fright Knight had his horse Nightmare; even Technus was crouched over his latest computer program. Every ghost in the Ghost Zone smiled and laughed, joking with the special person they had chosen to skip Heaven itself for. All of eternity lay stretched before them, and not one of them – not even Pariah Dark himself – could complain.

One ghost stood alone amongst the others, quietly playing with the tips of the gloves on his fingers. He was alone in the universe. His time for life had long since passed, dozens of years had gone by since he had last stepped foot in the world of the living, and Heaven was a long-forgotten memory. When the time had come for the choice, he had chosen eternity. He had chosen it on his own.

And so he waited patiently for the day to come when he wouldn't be alone anymore. Amethyst eyes, more beautiful than the stars that had once drawn him, haunted his dreams. He knew that the girl that owned those eyes was lying on her death bed, drawing her last breath even as he waited. He waited for her to die. He waited for her to choose.

The rest of eternity was his.

He just had to wait to find out if he'd be spending it alone.

* * *

Written September 19, 2007  
Blech. I've written better in my sleep.  
Thanks for reading anyways. XD


	59. Obsessions

_Sorry about this one. :D When I get depressed, humor comes out. Strange, but true._

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**Obsessions**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"I can't believe I have to _do_ this."

"I'm sorry, Spectra, but you know how few trained therapists we have in the Ghost Zone."

"I know… but it's just so… _demeaning_. I'm meant for better things than…" The therapist shuddered. "I should be trying to take over the world or something."

"You promised."

"It was a moment of weakness!" She leaned closer, her eyes pleading, trying to use her ageless beauty against her opponent. "You know that I would _never_ have agreed to this."

The reply was monotone and simple. "You still promised."

"I don't want to… He's so… creepy. There's nothing for _me_ to gain from this."

"You promised."

* * *

Spectra slammed the door behind her, stalking past her 'patient' and dropping into her chair. She was still fuming over the whole mess. It was just not _fair_ getting her drunk on emotions and _then_ asking her to do something. She would have done anything! Reaching out, she grabbed a stack of papers and morosely stared down at the file that belonged to her newest patient. It was huge. 

"So," she started conversationally, her voice still thick with rancor, "you…" but then she looked up and froze. Her patient had brought a friend. "Um…" she glanced between the two, watching the unfolding drama, a disbelieving look on her face.

The Box Ghost was sitting in one chair, a small plastic box in the other. He kept glancing over at his box, practically quivering in his desire to grab it. Over and over he reached out carefully patted the box before returning his hand to his knee and drumming his fingers for a moment.

"So…" Spectra started again but her patient beat her to it.

"I am the Box Ghost!" he screamed, making sure to end every one of his sentences with an exclamation mark, "And I _will_ get over this cardboard obsession!"

"Yes," she said as she daintily stuck a finger in her ear and twisted it back and forth, "you are obviously the Box Ghost. Do you ever _not_ yell?"

He floated out of his chair and pointed a finger at her. "You will help me or I will destroy you with my horrible cardboard vengeance!"

"I'm terrified," she said blandly before gesturing towards his vacated seat. "Sit down, idiot."

"I demand that you cure me, lest you face my cubical wrath!" The ghost raised his hands in an overly-dramatic attempt to look frightening.

Spectra gritted her teeth. "I'm _trying_, dolt, but if you keep talking, I'm going to blast something. And it's going to be _you_." For a few seconds, she glared at the blue-tinged ghost before closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. "I could be off turning an entire world full of teenagers into depressed and dreary shells, and what am I doing? I'm counseling this… _thing_."

"_I AM THE BOX GHOST!"_

"_SHUT UP!"_ Spectra slammed her hands onto her desk, her carefully crafted human body dissolving into her natural wraith form. All the lights in her office flickered and died as power arched through the air and everything in the office began to float. Spectra's eyes gleamed in fury as she glared at her annoying patient.

The Box Ghost's eyes widened.

"_Sit. Down._"

Quietly, almost gingerly, the blue ghost dropped back into his chair, his mouth opened… but no sound came out.

"Now," Spectra said, almost conversationally, her body beginning to reform. The various objects that had drifted up into the air settled back onto the ground, her office in disarray. As soon as her bright red hair misted back into existence, she silently checked to make sure all the strands were still in place. "Now, Box Ghost," she restated as she inspected her make-up for damage in her hand-sized mirror, "you are going to sit quietly while I talk, capiche?"

She glanced up to see the Box Ghost nod, his eyes still wide and terrified. For the first time, a small smile flickered across her lips. "Excellent. We might both survive this disaster after all." She steepled her manicured fingers and rested her elbows on her mahogany desk, gazing at her petrified patient. "You _want_ to get over your obsession about boxes?"

Strangely, the Box Ghost silently shook his head.

She raised an eyebrow at this. "But then why are you here?"

The Box Ghost didn't answer. Instead, he reached over and patted the box sitting next to him, glancing once at it to make sure it was still okay. When his fingers were safely back in his lap, his heel started to tap on the ground. Within seconds his whole body was quivering with the desire to pick up the box in the other chair, his eyes flicking over in its direction, his hand creeping towards it again.

Spectra rolled her eyes. "Answer my question, idiot. Why are you here then?"

"Cardboard is an inferior substance for the perfection that are my boxes!" he stated excitedly, quickly grabbing the plastic box and showing it to her. "Plastics are the wave of the future!"

With a sigh, she grabbed the incredibly large file off of her desk and scanned it as the blue ghost ran his hands over the plastic container. "You want to get over your obsession with…"

"_Cardboard_ boxes!"

Spectra groaned. This was going to be a very long session.

* * *

"Never. Again." After the Box Ghost had left, Spectra let out a small snarl, her carefully manicured nails digging into her palms. She turned to her companion, the long-suffering ghost of time. "Never." 

"You promised to do twelve sessions – that's eleven more. But who knows? Maybe you'll be able to cure him."

Safely across the Ghost Zone, Betrand huddled a bit deeper in his hiding spot when Spectra's scream split the air around him.

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Uploaded September 26, 2007  
Yup. That's... sad.  
Thanks for reading. ;)


	60. I Need to Go

_Celebrating 60 Star Shots and 800 plus reviews! Doing a short contest in the form of a quiz - answer questions about various stories I've written - the person who gets the most right wins a oneshot of their choosing. See my journal on DeviantArt (cordria . deviantart . com) for the quiz, then PM me or note me or email me your answers. My email is my username at hotmail . com. Luck!_

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**I Need to Go...  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny sighed as he tossed his heavy backpack over his shoulder, flicking a glance over at his two slightly-more-human friends. Both of them were bent under the weight of all the textbooks they were being forced to drag home for the long weekend. Danny quietly shuffled his backpack on his shoulder before grabbing Sam's pack and slinging it over his other shoulder, earning him a quick smile. If there was one advantage to being part ghost and being able to defy gravity…

"Hey!" Tucker muttered, sending him an evil glare, "I know she's the girl but she _is_ stronger than me."

"She's cuter," he replied bluntly.

Sam flushed but Tucker merely rolled his eyes. "She's still stronger."

Danny grinned at him and headed out the school door and into the bright sunlight. "We're just going to the Nasty Burger. You can carry your backpack for a couple of blocks."

Walking slower than necessary and dramatically dragging his feet, Tucker grunted with every step. "If I die," _grunt_, "you don't get," _grunt_, "my cheese fries."

Sam laughed and glanced over at Danny. "Thanks, but I can carry my own backpack."

"No…" Danny trailed off, stroking his chin in thought before continuing slowly, "I don't think you can…"

She arched one eyebrow. "What?" she said.

Tucker stopped a few feet away from his going-to-be-dead fried. "I _think_ he just said you can't…"

"You can't carry your own backpack," Danny interrupted, his face completely serious.

"Why?" Sam's voice was acerbic. "Is it because I'm a girl?" She took a step closer, tilting her head up slightly to glare straight into his eyes.

"No," he shook his head, his serious look dissolving in a mischievous smile, "it's because you _can't_ get it back." With that, Danny started backing up the street.

Sam lunged at him, Danny dancing out of the way and taking off up the street, laughing. "Get back here!" she screamed, right on his heels.

"HEY!" Tucker shouted after them. "I have the heaviest backpack _and_ no superpowers so don't freaking _run_!"

Danny glanced over his shoulder after a couple hundred feet, slowing down just enough for her to start gaining on him. He was nearly to the end of second block before he felt one of the backpacks suddenly get jerked off of his shoulder. Stumbling to a panting stop, he twisted around to see Sam smiling happily, her spider-style backpack clutched in her fingers. "I can carry my own backpack," she said simply, a proud arch to her back when she slung the heavy bag over her shoulders.

"I know, Sam," he said, his eyes dancing. "I just…" he trailed off as a shiver slid down his spine and his breath fogged in the air. He sighed, shaking his head. "I just have _got_ to teach these ghosts when the best times to haunt are."

"Here," Sam said, holding out her hand, "I'll carry your backpack."

"Nah, I'll give it to Tucker, he still owes me for lunch." Danny glanced over his shoulder. The other boy was still nearly a block away. "Or, since he's apparently slow and out of shape, I'll give it to you and bug Tucker for something else."

He was just about to hand over the pack when two hands appeared on his shoulders, clenching tightly. His head jerked around, staring into two obsessed, blood-red eyes. "I want to go to the _ball_," the ghost whispered.

"Dora?" he asked, shooting a look at Sam. She looked just as puzzled.

"Please, bring me to the ball." She walked through Danny before turning around to look him in the eyes. She leaned forwards until she was just inches away from him, not noticing as Danny bent backwards to stay away. "Please, Sir Phantom, I want to go the ball."

"I can't. The next dance is months away, Dora. What's wrong?"

Sniffling, her eyes shifted nervously and she glanced over her shoulder, still dangerously close to Danny. "I want to go to the ball." Her eyes flickered back to his, desperation growing in them. "I _need_ to go to a ball!"

"We get that," Sam said, scooting sideways until she was standing next to her friend, "but there aren't any."

The princess ghost wrung her hands together, ignoring the other girl. "I want… I need… I just… _please_." She dropped down to her knees. "I _need_ to go to the ball. I need to go now!" She broke into sobs, burying her face in her fingers.

"What's going on?" Sam whispered to Danny.

"Dora?" Danny asked quietly, dropping down on a knee and touching her shoulder. The ghost looked up, her tears staining her pale face. "I can't bring you to a ball. There aren't any to go to."

"I need to go to the ball," Dora hissed, her eyes narrowing as her obsessed sobbing turned into sudden anger. "I _will_ get to go to the ball. There _will be a BALL!_"

"Um… Dora?" Danny backed away from her a few feet. "Settle down. We'll find a ball for you to go to."

Sam suddenly gasped as Dora lurched to her feet, uncaring about the tears cascading down her cheeks. "Danny! Look at what she's wearing!"

Dora curled her fingers around a small pendant at her throat. "There will be a ball," she muttered angrily, "I say so because I am a princess and I _need_ to go to the ball. I need to go _NOW!_"

"Dora…" Danny took a step forwards, but the amulet around the ghost's neck had already begun to glow. Energy flooded around the trio.

With a scream of rage, need, and terror, Dora the princess gave way to Dora the dragon. "_BALL!"_ the dragon ghost bellowed, her wings churning the air. "Give me ball!"

"You really need to work on your 'deescalating situations' skills," Tucker muttered, having finally caught up to his friends. "_And_ you need to work on your 'not leaving your best friend behind' skills."

Danny shot him a glare as white light danced over his form. Leaving the two humans earth-bound, he drifted up into the sky to look Dora the dragon straight in the eye. "Dora, calm down."

"Ball," the dragon seethed, flames leaking out of her nose in her fury. She snapped at Danny, snarling when he ducked nimbly out of the way.

Danny dodged around behind her, searching for a way to get the amulet without hurting one of the only ghosts he was on sort of friendly terms with. He darted down towards the ghost, his fingers clutching at the necklace. Scaly wings buffeted him as he struggled to undo the clasp. Suddenly the amulet came loose and fell to the ground. Without the amulet's extra energy, Dora the dragon vanished… and Dora the princess was back once again.

"I just want to go to the ball," she cried, curling up into a ball on the ground. "Please, I just… need… want…" She shook her head as her obsessed thoughts scrambled around in circles.

"Dora," Danny said softly, landing on the ground and putting his hand on her shoulder.

She just curled up into a tighter ball, her hands digging into her messy hair. "I need… please… want… ball… dance… please…"

Danny felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Sam's eyes. "What's wrong with her?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes…" Danny hesitated, glancing back down at the sobbing princess before standing up and turning back to his human form. "Ghosts have obsessions, and sometimes it gets to be too much. For some reason, every once in a while, they can't handle… everything."

Tucker walked over, a thermos in his hand, nodding. "She's like an addict. Dances are her drug. All ghosts are like that, in some form: the Box Ghost is addicted to boxes; Skulker can't _not_ hunt. Being away from their obsession for too long is impossible." He held the thermos out to his friend, watching quietly as Danny took it.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, shooting a glance at Tucker and wondering how he knew that kind of stuff when she didn't.

Danny quietly pressed the button on the thermos and watched as Dora vanished from view. "I'll bring her home and let her out. Maybe she's got a ball she can go to there. I'll meet you guys at the Nasty Burger in a half-hour."

Sam touched his arm as Danny turned to grab his backpack. "Does that ever happen to you?"

Tucker chuckled, turning away and heading up the street, his knowing eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

"It does, doesn't it?" Sam accused, her amethyst eyes glaring at the taller boy, "What's it about, this obsession of yours? Why does Tucker know and I don't?"

Danny backed away up the street, eyes face paling and his eyes wide. "Um…"

"Daniel James Fenton, you tell me _right now_!"

"I need to go…" With that, Danny vanished.

Sam seethed for a few seconds, her hands clenched by her sides. "_Tucker. David. Foley._" She twisted around and stormed after her other best friend, her eyes narrowed. "You know. Tell me!"

Tucker took off running, screaming about it not being his secret to tell, Sam close on his heels the entire way. A pair of invisible eyes followed them for a couple of minutes, laughing quietly to himself, knowing his best friend wouldn't tell _that_ particular secret.

Danny set off towards the Ghost Zone, his mind full of sparkling, amethyst eyes, wondering how quickly he could get back to his unspoken obsession.


	61. Not So Accidentally

_I was searching for a file for chaosdragon and I ran across this. Reread it and decided it'd be fun to post. It was originally part of a suspense story I was going to try writing about the Fenton house being haunted.

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**Not So Accidentally  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

"Gimme that." I snatched the jumpsuit out of Sam's prying fingers and shook it out. I mean, yeah – it _was_ a horrendous white blob with a stupid picture of my dad's face on it just like she was saying, but it was _my_ horrendous white blob. I'd picked out the colors when my parents got it for me for my last birthday and everything. Of course, I had really been picturing it being more black… but it's the thought that counts. Right?

"You look like a marshmallow on a diet," Tucker snorted.

An evil-looking smirk settled on Sam's face. "Tucker! That's mean! Think of the poor marshmallows!"

I rolled my eyes as the two of them fell to the floor, laughing their heads off. "Fine, fine, laugh you guys. But I'm going to go check it out anyways."

"Right," Tucker managed to say between his chuckles, "You're going to go into an _interdimensional_ portal in a mad-scientist's version of a spooky basement in the most haunted house in Amity Park? I doubt it."

I winced, running the plastic-like fabric between by fingers. My house wasn't _technically_ haunted (take it from the kid with the ghost-hunting parents), but enough weird things happened that most people figured it was. I guess when you've got a house that emits weird lights, smells, and small explosions on a regular basis any time of the day or night some people are going to assume it's due to a ghost.

And then there was that time my dad sucked the whole house into another dimension and the house vanished for a few hours… but I'd rather not talk about that. And the turkey last year that ran off the table and down the street… Those were just clinch-pins in the 'Fenton's house is haunted' theory.

"My house isn't haunted," I retorted before kicking my shoes off to pull the white blob of a jumpsuit on over my clothes.

"You're actually going to do it?" Sam said, sitting up. "You're going to go in there? What if there's something in there…"

Tucker pushed her over with a laugh. "And there sits the Goth-girl, wondering if there really _is_ something haunting the machine."

She returned the push, accompanied by a glare. "And there sits the Techno-geek, the teenager who won't go into his basement on his own because of the monster hiding behind the furnace."

"Hey! We agreed to never mention that again!"

I yanked the jumpsuit on, tuning out my friend's argument with years of practice. Glancing over my shoulder at the ominous shadows of the portal, I thought I saw something for a second. A flash of white and black, two green eyes gazing at me out of the darkness.

"What about the ghost?"

Sam's voice dragged my gaze away from the portal and back to them. "What ghost?" I knew what ghost she was talking about. Why would she bring _that_ up right now? That's just a bunch of dreams anyways.

That's _my_ story and I'm sticking to it.

She sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "_Your_ ghost. The one you've been seeing around this house since you were, like, five. White hair, green eyes, black clothes… ring a bell?"

"Those are just bad dreams," I whispered, zipping the front of the jumpsuit up and yanking the annoying picture of my dad off my chest.

"Yeah," Tucker snorted, "I'll remind you that next time you call me in the middle of the night with one of your not-sightings."

I shivered. Why does that thing always bug me in the middle of the night anyways? Sitting on my bed, moving furniture, slamming doors…

No. Wait. It's just a dream. There's no such thing as a ghost haunting my house. "If there was a ghost haunting this house, my parents would know, okay? And someone else would have seen it." I turned around and stepped towards the portal.

"Whatever dude," he muttered.

"'Luck, marshmallow," Sam added.

I ignored her and carefully stepped over the mass of wires and jumbled mess on the floor, scanning the portal for anything that might resemble something slightly scary and forbidding. Other than a rather large (and obvious) 'on' switch that I figured I might want to mention to my parents at supper, there was nothing there but metal and wires. No ghosts, no demons, no spirits, nothing paranormal at all.

To tell the truth, I was more than a little relieved.

But then I saw him, sparkling in the metal of the portal's walls. He had impossibly white hair, electric green eyes, and his normal odd-looking black shirt and pants right out of the eighteen hundreds. He tipped his head to the side and laughed silently. "Ghost," I breathed, freezing in place.

_Do you want to fly with me? _The words whispered around, echoing distantly, and rolling with hidden laughter.

Then the boy was gone. I looked around searching the glittering walls for some sign of him, starting to make my way out of the portal. I'd had enough 'creepy' for one day. My parents could deal with this. My dreams didn't have to bother me during the day.

_I think it'd be fun. Let's play heroes, you and me. Let's fly._

I felt a small brush of wind on the back of my neck, almost like someone was breathing on me. I whipped around, my eyes wide. "Hello?" I whispered.

"Danny," Sam said, sticking her head around the edge of the portal and raising an eyebrow, "you okay?"

"Yeah," I said softly, rubbing the back of my neck and trying to ignore what just happened. Weird things happened around my parents inventions' sometimes. I was just going to chalk _that_ up as one of them.

I was… but before I could really even put it out of my mind, I felt _something_ push against my shoulder blades and I tripped over a pile of wires. There was a cool brush of fingers on my wrist, directing the placement of my hands as I steadied myself.

-_Click_-

My eyes jetted down to where my hand was pressed against the wall. Another hand – one that wasn't mine – was right where my hand was. Two hands, seeming to be in the same place. One mine, one not mine. I looked up, straight into the laughing emerald eyes of the boy. The ghost.

_We're going to fly!_

I was already screaming when the pain hit.

* * *

Uploaded October 18, 2007  
_IT'S MY DAY OFF! YAY!  
_Thanks for reading!!!


	62. Left Right Left Right

_What a difference one little choice makes.

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_

**Left – _Right_ – Left – _Right  
_**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny glanced around at the empty portal, his eyes scanning the silvery metal for anything that might give him a clue as to why the darned thing wasn't working. Of course, if his parents didn't know, that he sure wasn't going to. But he was going to give it a try anyways. He'd always been good at fixing things.

_Danny glanced around at the empty portal, his eyes scanning the silvery metal for anything that might give him a clue as to why the darned thing wasn't working. Of course, if his parents didn't know, that he sure wasn't going to. But he was going to give it a try anyways. He'd always been good at fixing things. _

Suddenly his foot caught on a bundle of wires and his hand pressed against the wall to keep himself from tripping. Light flared, pain slammed into his every nerve, and he screamed into the brilliant, blinding light. Around him, a tunnel formed. To his left was the safety of the human world, to his right was infinite realms of the Ghost Zone.

_Suddenly his foot caught on a bundle of wires and his hand pressed against the wall to keep himself from tripping. Light flared, pain slammed into his every nerve, and he screamed into the brilliant, blinding light. Around him, a tunnel formed. To his left was the safety of the human world, to his right was infinite realms of the Ghost Zone. _

When the light faded, he went left.

_When the light faded, he went right._

Danny stumbled out of the portal and collapsed onto the floor of his parent's lab, sobbing in remembered pain and terror. He fought to take a breath – one that would never come in his ghost form – and he glanced up. Sam and Tucker were kneeling over him.

_Danny stumbled out of the portal and collapsed onto a deserted spit of rock, sobbing in remembered pain and terror. He fought to take breath – one that would never come in his ghost form – and he glanced up. Nobody was there._

He stared down at his gloved hands, faintly glowing and transparent. "Am I dead?" he whispered to his friends. Sam dropped down into a crouch beside him and put her arm carefully around his shoulders.

_He stared down at his gloved hands, sparkling and impossibly white in the glowing expanse of the Ghost Zone. "Am I dead?" he whispered, his voice echoing out in the far reaches of nothingness. Nobody was there to deny it as panic and terror clutched at his throat. _

"I don't think you're _dead _dead," Sam muttered, raising an eyebrow and shooting a glance at Tucker. "I mean, if you were dead, you'd have a tough time walking and talking, right?" She squeezed his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Come on, get up. You can do it."

_Skulker paused in his hunting, listening to a quiet sobbing coming from somewhere nearby. "New prey," he muttered before firing the rockets on his jetpack and slowly ascending through the Ghost Zone. It took just a few seconds to locate the sounds of the crying – a small ghost with shocking white hair and a black jumpsuit huddled on a rock. "I am Skulker!" he shouted into the sky, grinning mercilessly when the figure jerked and looked up at him with fear in his green eyes. "Run, prey, run. Come on, get up. You can do it." _

Danny stumbled to his feet, carefully making his way towards the small mirror stuck to the wall. A few times, his feet fell through the ground and he almost fell over, but his friends were there to catch him. He shot them grateful glances.

_Danny stumbled to his feet, slipping and skidding on the rock s as he raced away from the armored figure flying towards him, screaming about arming missiles and the various sized cages he could be put in. Danny's feet flipped out from underneath him and he tumbled to the ground, rolled a bit on the steep slope, and tumbled off the edge and into the abyss with a scream of horror. _

He stared at himself in the mirror, gazing dazedly at his green eyes and white hair. Really, the glowing and the jumpsuit weren't bothering him as much as his eyes were. His father had glowed for a few hours after he'd shocked himself last week, and the jumpsuit could be taken off. But eyes were what made a person, and those weren't _his_ eyes staring back at him. Those were the eyes of a ghost. "I think I'm a ghost," he whispered to Sam and Tucker.

_He fell for more that three hundred feet before some weird instinct kicked in and he slowed his descent. Unsteadily, he directed his slowly falling path towards a large chuck of rock and forest that was floating in the gaseous nothingness. When his feet finally slammed into the ground, he trembled and dropped to his knees, tears streaking down his face and sobs racking his body. He crawled forwards a few feet to where a small pool of water had formed, and stared down at his reflection. He gazed dazedly into his own green eyes. Eyes were what made a person, after all, and those weren't his eyes staring back at him. Those were the eyes of a ghost. "I think I'm a ghost," he whispered to nobody in particular._

It happened almost too suddenly for the three of them to comprehend. In a flash of impossible light, Danny was back to his old self. Danny stared down at his human hands, running his fingers through his black hair. "Um…" He blinked at his two surprised friends. "What just happened?"

_It happened almost too suddenly to comprehend. In a flash of impossible light, Danny was back to his old self. He stared down at his human hands, running his fingers through his black hair. "Um…" He blinked around, searching blindly for someone, anyone, that could possibly help him. When nobody came into sight and no ideas popped into his head, he curled up into a ball and buried his head into his arms. "What just happened?"_

It took months of work, tons of practice, and a lot of mistakes, but slowly Danny grew into Phantom – the hero of Amity Park. With his friends beside him, he mastered his abilities. There was never a challenge he couldn't face, never a foe that was too strong. By the time he turned eighteen, he'd saved Amity Park more times than he could count from the ghosts that he'd freed that fateful day when he was fourteen.

_It took months of work, tons of practice, and more mistakes then he could afford, but slowly Danny grew into Phantom – a rather nameless, but powerful half-ghost in the endless abyss that was the Ghost Zone. Alone, a monster, he mastered his abilities. But he never ventured from his tiny spur of rock, fearing what his friends and family would say if he ever returned to Amity Park, never knowing that they needed a hero. When he turned eighteen, huddled in his small cave and fearfully watching Skulker lurk outside his island, he never knew that everybody he'd known and loved had already been killed by the ghosts that he'd freed that fateful day when he was fourteen._

Because of his friends, Danny would be much more than a human with ghost powers.

_Because of his loneliness, Danny would never be anything more than a ghost with human powers. _

All because of a simple choice.

_All because of a simple choice._

Left.

_Or right. _

* * *

Uploaded October 19th, 2007  
A human with ghost powers or a ghost with human powers... that line drove this whole thing.  
Thanks for reading, as always. :D


	63. The Fenton Family Meeting

_I despise family meetings. They are never good things._

_

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_

**The Fenton Family Meeting**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I took a flying leap over the couch arm, dropping heavily into the cushions. Fenton Family Meeting 101 – steal the entire couch before Jazz did. Otherwise you got deregulated to sitting on the floor for however long the meeting was going to last. 

They'd been known to last for hours and the floor was rather hard.

Jazz scowled at me, but quietly took up her unspoken place of dishonor on the floor, crossing her legs lotus-style. Dad bounded in after a few moments, settling his bulk into his favorite chair and popping the last piece of Mom's special fudge into his mouth. Mom was the last to arrive, sauntering in and depositing herself on the armrest of Dad's chair, and smiling at us.

"Kids, we have some news."

Jazz and I exchanged a glance. Of course they had news – they never called a Fenton Family Meeting and _didn't_ have news.

"You know how your father and I have been talking about moving to a bigger house for a few years?"

I nodded, grinning. A huge house had just gone on sale a few blocks away and I knew my parents had been waiting for that for a long time. With the power supply, space, and its rumored past of being haunted, it was the perfect house for a family of ghost hunters. I already had my room picked out too. It even had a balcony.

"And you know how we've been hunting the ghost-boy for a few years and we can't catch him?"

This got another nod out of me, although a confused one. What did that have to do with anything?

"Your father and I have been monitoring Phantom's growth over the past year and we're getting concerned about how powerful he's become. We wouldn't be able to contain him for more than a few hours even if we did manage to catch him."

I shot a look at the back of Jazz's head, but she didn't turn around to return the look. But I could see the tension growing in her shoulders. I didn't have a clue where this was going, and I was pretty sure neither did Jazz.

"Ghosts are hard to predict," Dad cut in, giving us a smile that looked like a combination of sad and happy. "And it's impossible to tell when Phantom will get tired of this hero game he's playing, turn on the town, and show his true colors. We won't be able to stop him."

A rock settled into my stomach. No freaking way they were going to take this discussion in the direction I thought they were.

"Phantom knows where we live, so we're going to move. We've got a few appointments to check out some houses…"

Jazz straightened up. "Move to where?" she asked. "That haunted house up the street?" I waited for the answer too, although I had a really good guess what it was going to be.

Mom smiled, straightening her goggles for a moment. "We've decided that there are other haunted towns that are more… suitable for teenage children."

"Move to where," Jazz repeated in a hard monotone.

"We were thinking Duluth, Minnesota or maybe Billings, Montana."

I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. "Let me get this straight," I managed to choke out, "you want to move away to get away from Phantom."

"He's grown too dangerous," Mom said seriously. "It's for the best."

I broke down into hysterical chuckles a split second before Jazz did. Both of us ended up on the floor, holding onto our sides as he fought to get control of ourselves again. "She wants to get away from…" Jazz snickered, wiping tears out of her eyes.

"We've already got some plane tickets," Mom continued after a moment, watching us with a raised eyebrow and a confused look on her face. "You can come with to help pick a place out. It won't be that bad."

Holding in a few more chuckles, I heaved myself back up onto the couch and tried to rearrange my face into a serious expression. There was no way I was moving to some other town to get away from _myself_.

"Mom, Dad, we need to talk…"

* * *

Uploaded October 20th, 2007  
(snicker)  
Thanks for reading.


	64. Impossible Battles

**Impossible Battles**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

He cursed, ducking under the swing of the staff. He'd spent _hours_ making sure Sam was safe after Vlad's cryptic warning, gone through all the trouble of protecting everybody and accounting for everything over the past hour, just to end up in _this._ Throwing himself into a quick back flip to avoid the incredibly annoying ecto-weapon, he snatched the small communicator out of his ear and stuffed it into a pocket. 

The voice in his ear – Tucker's – was right, even though he didn't want to hear it.

After all he'd done, and the good and the hard work, he couldn't stop now. He needed to keep going. He needed to win this fight.

He needed to fight with all of his strength and ability.

Even if they were his parents.

His feet slammed into the ground and he steadied himself, one eye on each of them as they approached. Danny's mom was wielding her favored ecto-staff and his father had some new form of the Jack 'O Nine Tails. Normally, neither of them would be a problem… but today, for some reason he had yet to discover, they were on a whole new level. They'd even thought to put up a ghost shield so he couldn't get more than about 100 meters away at any given time. And, just to add to the chaos, the shield also cancelled out his intangibility and his invisibility. "This is just excellent," he muttered darkly, wondering why his parents had invented a shield that could do _that _and hadn't told him.

"What do you want?" he asked for the zillionth time, crouching low to the ground and forcing his hands to glow with energy. "I don't want to fight you." He didn't want to fire on them, but he really had no choice. He needed this to stop, and if that meant actually fighting them... so be it.

They just paced towards him, creepy-looking in their neon-colored jumpsuits and dark-colored goggles, silhouetted against the quickly darkening sky. Neither of them answered his question. Instead, his mom raced at him, her staff swinging at about chest height. Danny threw himself to the ground and tucked himself into a ball. Rolling to his feet after she had passed, he twirled around and carefully aimed a blast of energy towards her ecto-staff. It blasted through the air, missing her weapon by inches.

"Don't you fire at her!" his father bellowed and Danny barely managed to dance out of the way as the Jack 'O Nine Tails slammed into where he was standing, crackling dangerously with energy.

"Stop this," he pleaded, but his mother cut him off with a well-timed crack of her staff to the back of his legs. Danny yelped and tumbled to the ground, twisting so he landed on his side. She raised the staff to slam it down on his head, but Danny twisted out of the way and staggered back to his feet.

"Stand still!" his mother commanded, racing towards him, the lights of Danny's ecto-energy glinting in her goggles. She swung the staff at him and he backpedaled, but his father was right behind him with the Jack 'O Nine Tails. Danny's eyes widened and he glanced from one to the other for a split second, debating what to do.

With intangibility, invisibility, and the ability to just run away gone, he was down to ecto-energy and his own agility. He wasn't going to blast them yet. Not yet. He crouched and sprung into the air, somersaulting over his father's head, praying that his abused and battered legs would hold up. Landing with a wince on the ground, already in a crouch, he spun one of his legs around and took his dad's feet out from underneath him. Finishing the sweep in a handstand, he finished the move by tumbling to his feet and backing away from the two figures.

He panted, limping in a circle around them. His mom helped his dad back to his feet and the two of them watched him move. "Come on," he begged, "this is pointless. Please stop this."

"You've done enough damage," his mother chocked out finally, her staff coming up in a simple cross guard position. "Leave us alone."

"I can't!" I snapped, gesturing at the ghost shield. "I'll leave, just let me!"

Suddenly the Jack 'O Nine Tails snapped towards him and Danny tried to get out of the way, but one of his legs buckled underneath of him and he collapsed to the ground with a moan of pain. His father was over in just a few seconds, scooping him off the ground and slamming his back against a building.

"Where is my child?" he demanded, shaking Danny furiously and causing his head to whap against the hard brick.

"Let go of me!" Danny screamed, struggling against the impossibly strong fingers holding him off the ground.

His mom yanked an ecto-gun out of a pocket and charged it, pointing the gleaming end of the barrel straight in Danny's face. "Where is she? Where have you taken my daughter?"

"Jazz?" Danny breathed, freezing in air as the entire world rewrote itself in a split second.

Vlad's cryptic warning about taking the girl who meant so much to him hadn't been about Sam after all. It'd been about his _sister._ "I'm going to kill her, Daniel," his voice whispered in his mind. "At eight o'clock, on the dot, I'm going to start. She's going to die very slowly, very painfully, and she's going to wish you were never born."

"No, lemme go!" He renewed his struggling, his eyes panicked, no longer bothering to keep the ecto-energy from flaring around his form. His father dropped him roughly to the ground with a muffled curse as Danny burned his fingers and Danny collapsed, his legs barely able to hold him up.

The whine of an ecto-gun made him pause, staring up at his mother with tears in her eyes. "I need to go find her, he's going to kill her."

She hesitated, but then shook her head, flipping the safety on the gun, and pursing her lips as her husband drew a similar gun and pointed it in his direction. "No more tricks. No more running. No more."

"I thought he meant Sam," he cried, terrified that his sister would soon be facing her fate and he wouldn't be there to stop it. "Sam Manson. He told me he was going to kill her and I thought he meant Sam."

"What do you mean?" The gun lowered slightly, a hesitant look appearing on her face.

"At eight o'clock," Danny rasped, sparkling tears falling from his eyes as he looked up into the eyes of his parents. They needed to release him. If they didn't believe him _now_, he'd have to fight them. He might even have to hurt them – but he needed to get out. He needed to save his sister. There wasn't any time to play this game. "He was going to torture her and kill her at eight o'clock. I need to find her. I can save her, but you need to let me go!"

The ecto-gun dropped from nerveless fingers and Danny stared up at his mother in surprise, watching her dissolve into tears.

It was his father that finally answered his unspoken question, his own gun still unwaveringly pointed at Danny. "It's eight thirty."

The impossibly tormented expression in Danny's eyes must have broken the last barriers in his father's mind because he dropped the gun with a sob and gathered his wife into a fierce hug.

Neither of them noticed when the ghost they'd been fighting was suddenly a very familiar-looking human boy, walking dazedly out past the shield and into the darkness before sprinting down the street in the street in the impossible hope that Vlad had been lying.

There really wasn't any hope to be had, but he wouldn't believe his sister was dead until her body was in his hands.

* * *

Uploaded October 21st, 2007  
The quilted quicker picker upper... don't ask.  
Thanks for reading. ;)


	65. Decisions

_900 reviews?!?!!? WOW!!!_

_It's nearly impossible to understand the true power of Clockwork and what he can... and cannot... do.

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_

**Decisions  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I watched, fascinated, as the dirty and smelly man stared at his bunkmate. The ancient, leaky ship creaked and groaned around the two men, rats scuttled underfoot, maggots crawled through the food, and fleas and ticks coated the walls like a living form of paint. Even though I don't breathe, the stench of the place had me holding my hand over my nose and backing away. But I didn't leave. 

One of the men was asleep, the other awake. The sleeping man swung lazily in his cot… one small flea sitting on the tip of his nose. It was this one flea that had the other man completely transfixed. A single flea out of trillions sitting on the nose of a single man out of dozens on a single boat in the Mediterranean.

I couldn't tear my eyes off of the drama unfolding before me as the tiny insect finally stuck its probe into sleeping man's nose and began to drink. The other man could have easily leaned over and flicked the flea off of his friend's nose. But he didn't.

I sank to the undulating floor of the ship, my legs crossing, staff across my legs. My gaze flickered endlessly from the feeding flea to the man leaning against the wall and back. Not for the first time in my eternal existence, I wished that I could read the man's mind. He was making a decision about what to do with the flea on his friend's nose.

It was something I couldn't imagine and struggled desperately to understand. How could this one human being, so small and unimportant, possibly make this decision without help? The fate of millions of lives rested in the simple decisions of this smelly man. He didn't know the future; he couldn't extrapolate the effects of his actions. There was no way that this man knew all of the variables of the situation. How was he not _tortured_ by the question of what his decisions would bring? Why was he not wondering about all the things he didn't know? How could he just… decide?

In the end, the other man shook his head and laughed softly, heading back up on top of the ship and letting his friend suffer with an itchy nose. The decision had been made, for better or for worse

The single flea was allowed to live. The deadly virus inside of that one flea quickly spread throughout the ship. Once the ship docked and offloaded, the infected sailors mingled with the others at the wharf. Within a few years, the infamous plague known as the Black Death had wiped out millions of lives.

Imagine how different the world would have been if that man had killed that one flea, stopped the Black Death, and prevented Europe from falling back into the dark ages. The human race would have been close to three _hundred_ years quicker to reaching the information era we enjoy today. Imagine a man walking on the moon in 1669, or pocket-sized computers in the year 1707.

All because of one man's decision.

* * *

Millions upon millions of decisions are made by human beings on Earth every second of every day. Should she go left or right? Should he wear shoes or sandals? Should she bring an umbrella or risk getting wet? I have carefully observed trillions of minute decisions, never once understanding how it works. For a creature such as myself, grown on knowledge and steady in my determination to base my actions off of facts, making a decision based on 'gut feeling' has always been a mystery. 

Which is one of the reasons why I found myself in Germany in the year 1918, sitting calmly in the shadows of a darkened alleyway. I knew that a major decision was about to be made right here, and I wanted to watch. I had spent the past few years collecting data on the outcomes of this particular fated meeting. I had the numbers in my head… how many would suffer or how many would prosper… which decision was the better one to make.

_My_ decision was based on hard facts and an intimate knowledge of the consequences of actions. And yet a human was about to stumble down this very alleyway and be forced to make the same decision that I had made without any idea what his actions would bring.

When a boot scuffled on pebbled ground and a dazed young man drifted through the dark alley, I leaned forwards, focusing on the human. He was wearing the uniform of one of the German soldiers. A shadow moved at the other end of the alley and a second human appeared; this one wearing an English uniform.

The pieces were set.

I gazed intently at the Englishman as thoughts flickered through his mind. Was the young human contemplating the consequences of his actions? Did he understand who was at the other end of the barrel of his rifle? A million times a million possibilities stemmed from this one point in time. How could he possibly account for the repercussions of his actions without being able to see into the future? Somehow… he made a decision without those things.

A finger tightened on the gun's trigger for a moment and the German soldier, a young Adolf Hitler, flinched.

Then the Englishman's eyes softened and he lowered his gun. The German human blinked in confusion, but then raced off into the darkness.

A single man was allowed to survive, his mind beginning to slowly tumble into insane paranoia. He was the cotter pin that held together the Reich that sparked the second of the world wars. This was the man that helped to condemn uncountable numbers of people to die.

All because of one man's decision.

So easily, I could have reached out and effected the Englishman's decision. It would have taken less than a moment to help the man pull the trigger and save countless human lives. But I was wrapped up in the idea that a human _could_ make the choice without fully understanding the consequences.

Blind leaps of faith. I stared hard at the Englishman as he turned and walked away. What was it about humans that allowed them to throw everything into the wind and just make a decision like that? Why didn't they go insane with the questions of what their actions would bring?

I doubt I will ever understand.

* * *

It was with nearly a century's worth of data collection and facts behind me that I sat in the dirty and cramped laboratory in a small college town on Earth. I drummed my fingers on the steel tabletop as I waited for the second when everything would come together. I knew every possible outcome of this moment in time. I had carefully traced out the one that I figured was best; the one I hoped would come to pass. 

Three people walked into the lab. The eldest male leaned over a small ring on the table and shook his head in disgust. "I'm telling you Jack, it won't work," he muttered darkly.

Carefully setting my staff down, I bit my lip and watched the scene unfold. I knew the path that should be taken… but would these humans? That was the one thing that was out of my hands, the one mystery left in my world. What would the humans decide? They are the ultimate creators of the future, the manipulators of destiny. I am here merely to watch and to try to understand.

Perhaps, someday, if I could understand the way that humans made decisions I would be able to figure out the future with some degree of accuracy. That was my main goal of being here, waiting, watching. I wanted to understand.

"Bogus, V-Man, it totally will!" The large man with the mullet grinned. "This proto-portal is guaranteed to bust open the wall into the ghost dimension!"

I raised an eyebrow. This was it. Would the humans make the decisions I hoped they would? How could this one crazy, bumbling, hormone-driven human with no possible idea as to what was going to happen make the right choice? The chances were infinitesimal.

"Jack, these calculations aren't right," the woman muttered after picking up a sheet of papers.

I leaned forwards. Would the large male stop what he was doing to check his calculations?

Did he know that by pushing that button, the other male was would become a spectral creature? Did he realize that he was also fating his future son to becoming the same thing? Could he possibly realize that pushing that button started a chain reaction that had a high probability of culminating in the end of the world?

Did he realize that by _not_ pushing that button a very specific ghost-human hybrid would never be born? Did he know the horrors that would ensue from that child not being there to save the world? Could be possibly realize that _not_ pushing the button would probably end the world?

The fate of the entire world…

Resting in one human's hands…

And I just watched.

"BONZAI!" The young man pushed the button, the generator roared to life, the proto-portal sizzled, misted, and then exploded.

"Huh," I whispered as two of the humans crowded around the third, unknowing that his entire life had just been upended, unknowing and uncaring that they'd just sent the entire world on a collision course with destiny. "I will never understand humans."

* * *

I stared into the mirror, dread filling my body. It was a future I had seen as a possibility, but had been so slim that I hadn't bothered to do any research, to figure out any facts. I had been too caught up in what the boy had been doing to bother examining the future in great length. Every day, the boy – the savior of the world – made decisions that shattered every one of my careful calculations to bits. It was taking all my work and determination just to keep up with what was going to happen _tomorrow_, much less what was going to happen in the far future. 

And now that the future _was _tomorrow, there were consequences to unravel, actions to debate upon, and options to consider. This huge decision, this humongous turning point was here. Moving quickly, it would take me years to figure out what the best thing to do would be.

But as I stared at the screen before me, the staff in my hand whirling away the seconds, I knew very well that for the first time in the history of time, a moment of decision had arrived and had caught me flat-footed. A decision that was mine to make.

A decision that had unknown consequences, a choice based on no facts, a gut feeling.

One way, I knew would lead to the creature of the ultimate enemy: the destroyer of worlds.

The other way would create the savior of worlds.

I had no idea which was the correct action, and no time to figure it out. I had to choose. Had I learned enough from my observations of the humans in the past to know which to pick?

It was with a sinking feeling that I reached out and made my decision. For the rest of eternity, I would probably be looking back at this moment, torturing myself over what I had chosen to do and which paths would have been better to take.

On the screen a ghost by the name of Boxed Lunch appeared before the boy.

I sat back and crossed my fingers, knowing only one thing.

The power of the human mind to be able to make snap decisions is incredible, complex, and completely beyond my comprehension… and I wished never to wield that kind of power ever again.

* * *

Uploaded October 22nd, 2007  
Well, I tried. XD Did I succeed?  
Thanks for reading.


	66. Prints

**Prints  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

It was, I thought, the weirdest idea I'd _ever_ had. It probably ranked really high up there on the stupid and crazy scales as well. What was I doing sneaking in Phantom's room? 

I hesitated, standing over the sleeping form. The boy had been slowly regaining some of the opacity he'd lost during those numerous rescue attempts. I still couldn't believe that a teenager – even one like Phantom – would enter a burning building that many times. Dozens of lives had been saved because he had, because he'd been there, because he'd cared.

It wasn't until he collapsed, coughing, that anyone had paid attention the fact that he wasn't perfectly healthy anymore. Paramedics had swarmed around the young hero and there'd been a raspy acknowledgement that yes, he did need to breathe. Even stranger, he had a heartbeat. Phantom had been rushed to the hospital where the best doctors in the area had stood over him, scratching their heads, wondering what to do with the ghost.

Finally they contented themselves with hooking him up to a machine that would measure his sluggish heart beat and sticking an IV in his arm. There he lay, seemingly unconscious, the only sounds in the room being the steady drip of the IV fluid, the slow beep of the monitor, and two sets of breathing.

One was this impossible ghost's, one was mine.

I took a few steps closer, licking my lips and clearing my throat, not wanting to bother the ghost if he was awake. "Phantom?"

When I got no response, I got a few feet closer, reaching out to touch one of his arms. The normal jumpsuit had been removed and the ghost's skin was impossibly cold. "Phantom?"

Quietly, quickly, I turned his hand over to study his fingers. I'd had this 'eureka' moment at work this morning and now I needed to see if I was right. Ghosts were just like corpses - dead people. They used to be somebody. And it made sense (well, after an entire day of doing nothing but taking fingerprints at the police station, it made sense to _me_ anyway) that if people had fingerprints and corpses had fingerprints than ghosts might have them too. I grinned, shooting another glance at the ghost's sleeping face when I noticed the whorls and arches and ridges at the tips of his fingers.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace," I whispered to him, grabbing my ink pad and the card I'd brought along. "Dab and roll, dab and roll, and done."

I carefully wiped off his fingers and placed the hand on the sheet, stopping to stare at him on last time. Just for a second, I couldn't see Phantom as anything more than someone's child. "I wonder if your family is still alive."

My fingers tightened around the card as I strengthened my resolve. "Well, if you're in the system and they are, I'll call them for you, okay kid? They deserve to know what kind of hero you are." I brushed my fingers once through his cold hair and then walked out of the room.

* * *

Uploaded October 23rd, 2007  
This should've been continued a bit farther, but I lost the desire.  
Thanks for reading.


	67. Donner Party of Two

_Cruel, evil, and disgusting concepts if you read into it. Beware. And a little bit of death too._

_Happy birthday ChaosDragon... hope your day goes better. ;)_

* * *

Donner: Party of Two

* * *

I shivered and moved a little closer to the unconscious body of my best friend… my wish-she-was-more-than-just-my girlfriend. The feeble warmth of the small fire was doing almost nothing to hold away the freezing temperature of the winter evening. Even Sam's body gave off more warmth than the slowly crackling flames.

It had been nearly three weeks since the accident that had left us here. Nineteen days in the snow, in the woods, all alone. Too many long days and nights since the noise and the chaos that had left us for dead.

I cursed softly, staring forlornly out of our tiny shelter and into the snowstorm. I hadn't eaten anything but a handful of old airplane peanuts and a can of soda in that entire time. Glancing quickly down at Sam, I sighed. Sam had eaten even less than me. She'd been adamant at first that I should be the one to eat, hoping against hope that it would help me get some of my power back so I could do _something_.

There hadn't been much to eat either way, and no where near enough for me to get enough energy back to actually do something. Both of us were starving.

"Where's the rescue team?" I asked for the eight-hundred and fifty-seventh time. "They were supposed to be here already." I hefted the small transmitter and glared down at the cheerily blinking light. Even this small bit of exercise made my whole arm tremble. Walking out of here and finding help wasn't an option anymore.

To be completely honest, getting out on our own hadn't _ever_ been an option. Sam had suffered a lot of broken bones in the plane crash… she'd been so hurt and she'd gotten really sick. I'd never thought that someone could get so close to dying so fast. Moving her at all had been torture. Just getting her from the crash site to the shelter had made her pass out from the pain.

I hadn't escaped the plane crash scot-free either. My ghost powers were the only reason the two of us had survived when the dozens of others in the small plane died… but something had gone horribly wrong. When I had woken up amongst the rubble and the burning wreckage of the plane, my fingers clenched tightly around Sam's, my ghost powers had been all but gone. It had taken almost an entire day of shivering and freezing to accumulate enough energy to get even our feeble fire started.

I would have loved to go ghost and fly for help… but that wasn't going to happen.

Every day for the past nineteen days, I'd been telling myself that the rescue team was right over the horizon. Even as I stared down at the transmitter, I could feel my eyes itching to look up and make sure – just one more time – that there was nobody coming over the crest of the nearby hill.

"Damn it, Sam," I breathed, brushing a dirty lock of hair out of her face, "this is bad." I wasn't entire sure why I was still talking to her like she could respond. Maybe it was because I had nobody else to talk to. Maybe it was because I didn't want to accept the fact that she was so close to death. Maybe I was just a hair closer to 'crazy' than I thought I was. She'd been in what I figured was a coma for almost a week. Her skin was pale and sallow, looking like fragile pieces of paper against her strong cheekbones.

"This stupid thing doesn't work." This wasn't a huge leap of logic – Sam had still been awake and able to respond with sarcastic comments when I'd figured _that_ out. Despite my pronouncement, I carefully set the emergency transmitter down in a snow-free section of our shelter. I couldn't quite get myself to throw it away… even after all this time. "I haven't said anything new in days, Sam." I shot her a glance, shaking my head. "Neither have you, just so you know."

"I think we've had this one-sided conversation before." Chocking back on a small laugh that would have really hurt my starving body, I huddled deeper into my tattered jacket. "I've even said _that_ before."

After a long, morose silence, I groaned. "We're going to die out here." This didn't bring up the feelings that it used to. It used to be a scary thought; one that I could barely whisper in the dark of the night when I knew Sam couldn't hear me. Now, I really didn't care. The words really meant nothing to me – at least death would change the tedious, shivering boredom I'd found myself in.

The only things that answered my statement about dying were the labored breathing of the girl who meant more to me than the sun and the soft crackling sounds of the fire. "I'm an idiot, Sam. I dragged you on this crazy vacation and got us into this whole mess." I reached over and squeezed her fingers. "I couldn't just ask you to marry me like a normal idiot. I had to arrange some silly ski trip."

"So… I guess I have to say I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

I looked down at her, watching her breath fog gently in the cold air. "This is where you say that it's not my fault, that I couldn't have known the plane would crash, and that I'm being a stupid jerk." Waiting a moment, I sighed and shook my head. "I'll just pretend you said it." I grabbed one of the last pieces of wood from our meager wood pile and tossed it to the fire to get some more heat. We wouldn't get any more wood when this was gone; I didn't have the strength to go wood-searching anymore. This idea didn't cause the panic in my chest that it normally would have… I was completely dead to the idea of dying.

The measly supplies I'd managed to scavenge from the burning wreckage were splayed out before me, illuminated by the warmth and light of the tiny fire. I was trying, one last time, to figure out a plan to get us out of here that was better than the one in my head. There was the joke of an emergency transmitter, a couple empty tins we used to melt snow for water, a baseball cap, and a small handgun with one bullet.

"Stupid pilot," I groused for probably the hundredth time as I stared down at them, "couldn't even pack a good emergency bag. I mean," I picked up the gun, "what's the point of a gun with one bullet? Or a baseball cap? Why wouldn't he pack us some _food_?"

"There just isn't a better plan, Sam." I reached over and traced a finger over her cheek. "It's a long-shot, but it's the only hope of either of us surviving through this." Fingering the cold metal of the gun's barrel, I sighed. "You're going to kill me when you wake up anyways."

It was a horrible plan that I had come up with nearly two weeks ago. I'd mentioned it to Sam at some point and she'd nearly managed to get to her feet to attack me – which was quite a feat with as many broken bones as she had. I'd promised to not go through with it.

I'd promised.

"I've made other promises… promises that mean more to me than that one. I really only said it to make you lay back down." A small smile slipped onto my face. "Remember? I made a promise to you in second grade. I gave you that silly plastic spider ring I'd wrestled from Jazz. I promised I'd never let anything hurt you."

"I promised to be your best friend forever and ever." I wove the freezing fingers of my free hand through her not-much-warmer fingers. "And, aside from a few moments here and there where all of reality changed, I've kept my promise."

Setting down the gun for a second, I reached up and pulled a small chain out from under my shirt. Ever since I'd met a certain pick-pocket of a ghost my first year of college, I could never trust anything that went into my pockets to _stay_ in my pockets. This particular object was too important to lose, so I'd taken the extra precaution of stringing it around my neck. On the chain was one small silver ring. "I was going to ask you to marry me, Sam. To live with me forever… to take that promise I made in second grade and make it better."

"I guess now I can't."

I unstrung the ring and held it in my hand, studying it for a second. "But I am going to stand by the promise I made in second grade." I carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. "Even if that means breaking the promise I made just two weeks ago. But I made that other one first." Softly, gently, I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek one last time. Her skin was cold and brittle against my chapped lips. "I love you too much to let something worse than this happen to you."

"You need food, Sam. And help." My eyes closed with the pain that the next thought brought. "You won't live to see tomorrow otherwise." I slowly picked up the gun and pushed myself to my knees. My whole body shook with the effort and the energy it took to get up even this far. "Even if it's an ice cube's chance in hell, I need to take it. One of us needs to make it out of this alive… and I don't see any way that it can be me."

I crawled out into the cold snow, unable to stagger to my feet. I was only about twenty feet from the small shelter when I collapsed on the ground, my breathing ragged and my chest burning.

After a few moments, I managed to push myself up and be sitting, my trembling arms resting in my lap. Snow drifted out of the sky and burned coldly against my skin; tiny kisses of ice that stole away what little warmth my body could find. "No human can make it out," I gasped, feeling the ache of my limbs make my entire body shake. "But a ghost could."

"One freaking bullet, what's the point of that?" The last of the rancor was gone from my voice. It was just a pronouncement into the air. I stared down at the cold object, cradling it in my hands. It wasn't fear that was staying my hands, or nerves, or last regrets. I'd long since given up hope of ever seeing anyplace other than this snowy forest. My arms seemed almost too weak to pick up the impossibly heavy weight of the gun. I just sat and watched the snow sparkle against the metallic sheen.

I was going to die… and I really didn't care. I just wanted to make sure that Sam wasn't going to die too.

"Come on, Fenton. You don't have to be a ghost for long, just long enough to get Sam some food and some help."

My arms moved, the frozen metal of the gun finding my temple, despite my eyes being closed. Just because I was ready to die didn't mean I wanted to watch it happen.

My finger twitched.

I never even heard the gun go off.

* * *

She coughed, struggling against the sweat taste of the warm broth tricking down her throat. Even though it was meat, even though she had vowed never to eat meat again, her body moved unconsciously. She licked her lips and silently begged for more. 

Over and over the cold hand dribbled the energy-giving food into her mouth. She groaned, swallowing her latest bit of broth, and blinked her eyes open. Blurry green eyes stared down at her. "Danny?" she rasped.

"Shhhh, Sam. You're okay."

"Where'd the food come from? We've been rescued?" At least that's what she tried to say. It didn't sound anything like that, but Danny seemed to understand.

His eyes dropped for a second before looking back at her. "No, we're still lost."

"Food?"

Danny dropped the small tin onto the ground behind him. "Go back to sleep, Sam."

"Danny…" Her eyes drooped. The food was making her sleepy.

"I love you. Now go to sleep."

She did.

* * *

Two days later, a rescue team appeared at the crash site, still muttering about the fact that a _ghost_ had shown up to show them the location of the missing plane. They quickly located the single survivor of the plane crash and whisked her away. 

Danny's body was never found, and his ghost was never seen again

* * *

_Do you know where the food came from? I deleted most of the 'obvious' disgusting parts..._

_Warning: If you don't want to know where it came from, stop reading. This is 'ew'._

_The Donner Party is a true story about a group people that got stuck in the mountains. To surivive, they had to resort to eating their dead. In my story, Danny killed himself to become a ghost to go out a get help... but he also used his own body to give Sam the food she'd need to survive long enough for the rescue team to arrive._

_Uploaded November 12, 2007  
Ew.  
Thanks for reading!_


	68. Computer Games

_Gah. Can you believe it? I made Paulina… human. Someone I can (shudder) connect with and understand. _

_…I think it's the most evil thing I've ever done. _

_Oh and FYI - my 1,000th review is coming up (zomg... wow!). The person who gives it will win a oneshot of their choosing. But it will probably not be for this star shot. The next one maybe. ;)_

_

* * *

_

**Computer Games  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

She leaned a little closer to the computer screen, quickly moving her cursor between a few different buttons. "Light green?" she asked softly, clicking on a small swatch of color on the left-hand side and surveying the results. "No, it clashes with his eyes. Red?" 

"What-cha doing?"

"Hi," she replied softly, leaning back in her chair and tipping her head to the side to study the screen. "I like red. We could have a red wedding with roses and those pretty bleeding hearts. Maybe some green for accents, just to go with his eyes."

I grinned and dropped into an empty chair, studying the screen with a raised eyebrow. Personally, I couldn't see what was so wonderful about the ghost-hero. Yeah, he was cute, but he couldn't hold a candle to some of the _real_ boys in the school. Eyes flicked over to my friend and I bit back my true thoughts. The red was horrible. She should've gone with a deep, satin green – a forest or a dark emerald – with light green accents and a traditional black tux. But what were friends for if not to lie, prod, and stick with each other through even the weirdest of crushes and bad fashion? "Red is nice. Maybe you can have accents in your dress or something."

"Red ribbons," Paulina whispered to herself, clicking away with the mouse, "maybe some flowers sewn into the train. That'd be wonderful."

"Paulina," I hesitated, "you're not really going to try and _marry_ Phantom… are you?"

Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at me. "Why not?"

"He's dead?" I sighed softly, wondering why my thoughts always came out as questions around her.

She snorted and tipped her head the other way. Holding up a finger and tapping the image of Phantom, she asked, "You don't think it would look too odd with me being in a white dress and him having white hair, do you?"

No, no I didn't, because the idea of her marrying a ghost was wrong and… wrong. Could someone who was dead even do the things married couples did? What if he turned invisible in the middle of something? I shuddered, trying to wrench my mind away from the disgusting mental image. "No, I think it'd be fine."

Almost like she hadn't heard a word I said, she clicked on one of the frames and an image of Paulina in an old-fashioned wedding gown popped on the screen. "Because I've tried a few other options, but I think my papá would go loco if I didn't wear a white wedding dress." A few more button clicks and the program swept Paulina's hair up into a draping bun and gave her dress a soft pink tint.

It looked horrid. The pink with the red ribbons… I shivered and tried to come up with something to say. "What's his favorite color? Maybe you could go with that?"

She shrugged. "I suppose it's black or green. But I can't have a black and green wedding – that's so Goth." Paulina made a face and made a few more medications to the computer program. Soon she had a modern, sleek dress with a short veil and loose hair… still in that awful pink and red. "He's going to come and sweep me off my feet," she was whispering, staring at the monitor with a dazed expression, "and we'll go dancing through the clouds and the stars will fall and I'll get my first kiss sitting on a rainbow."

"You've already been kissed."

"_Boys_ don't count. My first kiss with a real man, that's what would count." She sighed and rested her chin on her hand. On the screen, Phantom in his tux (complete with blood-red cumber bun and tie) and Paulina in the modern style dress were standing side-by-side. She'd turned the dress white again at some point.

"You make a cute couple," I lied. It was true that Paulina was elegant in the white dress and you could definitely classify Phantom as cute in that tux. She'd uploaded a nice picture of him into the designing program. His white hair was falling over his eyes and he had a smile on his face.

But together? No. Phantom was too stringy and lean for Paulina's height. Not to mention the small, little, inconsequential fact that he was _dead_.

"We make a _perfect_ couple." She bit her lip, toying with the computer program a bit more. "I'm just not sure about the white. What can we do about that?"

"You could dye his hair," I muttered to myself, more sarcastically than not. You don't go around dying the groom's hair just because it clashed with the wedding décor. That was just stupid.

Unfortunately, Paulina heard me and she brightened. "Oh! That opens up a lot of possibilities! Do you think he'd go for that?"

"I think he likes his white hair." In fact, I'm not sure people would recognize him without it. People usually just look for the hair and the eyes – they're so noticeable. Everybody describes him as the 'kid with the white hair and neon-green eyes'. Probably he if dyed his hair brown and wore sunglasses and a coat, he could walk through downtown and people wouldn't say anything.

To me, anyway, if nobody recognized the fact that you were marrying Phantom… didn't that take part of the thrill out of it? I glanced over at Paulina, who was carefully searching through the design program for the right subroutine. I knew for a fact that Paulina 'loved' Phantom because he was popular and heroic – she was infatuated with the story and the dream of a fairy tale come true. She wouldn't want to marry him if nobody _knew_ she was marrying him.

Paulina didn't seem to be following the same train of logic that I was however. She was busily clicking away and, on the screen, some amazing changes were taking place. Phantom's hair, for starters, was a yellow-brown that looked a lot like someone had thrown up on his head.

It took every last ounce of my self control to not grab the mouse out of Paulina's hand. First the red, then the red and the pink, and now the red and the _puke brown?_ How in the world did this girl end up as the most popular and well-dressed girl in our grade? A _Goth_ could combine colors better than this. "Maybe you should try for a different color," I muttered after a second, still wincing at the idea of the color combination.

"I'm going to keep his eyes green," Paulina announced, her smile firmly in place as she leaned forwards, her nose inches from the computer screen. "What goes good with green?"

"Black?" I was going to add 'red' too, but wisely kept my mouth shut. Red hair and a red dress was a horrifying fashion _never_.

She wrinkled her nose, but tried it anyways. Phantom's hair flickered to black. "That's not bad," Paulina acquiesced, "but now I need a different color tux. He looks like a ghost with the pale skin and the dark hair and clothes."

I managed – just barely – to hold back my eye roll at that comment. _Of course_ he looked like a ghost! _He was one_. "Maybe…"

"A white tux," Paulina cut in, quickly clicking away on the screen until Phantom's black tux faded to white. She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "Perfect."

I let the silence drag on for a few seconds, waiting for her to say something. "It's very… Christmas themed, with the red and the green and the white." And ugly, but I kept that to myself. Paulina would have done herself better with a longer cut and simple dress, a half-length veil, and kept her color-coordinating nightmares to her flower bouquet.

"Christmas would be an excellent time to get married," Paulina nodded, her voice little more than a whisper as she lost herself in her dream world. "We could have the bridesmaids in red, and two flower girls dressed up like snowflakes. Fake snow on the ground, some edelweiss and white roses along the aisle…"

I grinned. "You can dress the ring bearer like snowman."

"Be serious," she chided and I raised a skeptical eyebrow. She was going to dress her flower girls like _snowflakes_ and marry a _ghost_ and she wanted _me_ to be serious? "The ring bearer will be in a small tux, matching Phantom's. He's a ghost – he's cold – he'll probably appreciate the effort to make him feel more at home."

"Uh-huh," I tapped my foot against the ground as Paulina started looking for the print icon.

"We could make our invitations frosty too." She clicked on the print button and grinned as the printer on the other side of the room whirred to life. "You are cordially invited to the wedding of Danny Phantom and Paulina Sanchez." She twirled in her chair to look at me with shining eyes. "Paulina Phantom – it's got a nice ring to it. Danny and Paulina Phantom."

I nodded. She was right; it did have a nice ring to it… once you got over the kind of nauseating concept behind it. "You've got it all planned out. Now you just need to get Phantom to stick around you for more than a few seconds and you've got it made."

"That's the plan!" She danced up out of her chair to get her printout.

I swear… my sense of sarcasm and wit was _completely_ lost on her. Paulina was just a little too shallow and wrapped up in her own life to notice the 'real' world around her. I really needed to find someone new to hang around with or I was going to go nuts. Valerie was good for that. I should go sit with her at lunch tomorrow.

"That red and green is just horrifying," I whispered to myself, checking over my shoulder. Paulina was staring down at her printout, circling things with a pencil. I reached over and grabbed the mouse, biting my lip. Really, the red wasn't _that_ bad, not after I fixed the color from that bright-blood crimson to something a little darker. And I needed to get rid of the green. But the green was in his eyes… how was I going to change that?

I shrugged. If Paulina was already dying his hair black for the occasion, my own personal contribution could be colored contacts. Finding the right menu took a matter of seconds. I scanned the color choices and picked a pretty blue that would go well with the darker red. Checking one more time over my shoulder to make sure that Paulina was still busy, I also gave Phantom a little bit of a tan. He didn't look that bad in the white, but against his white outfit, he needed a tan. Besides, it'd help him match Paulina's skin tone.

With a satisfied grin, I leaned back to check out my work… and nearly fell out of my chair. "Oh… my…" I choked, staring up at the screen in wonder. "Danny… Fenton?"

"Are you okay?" Paulina asked with a little bit of concern, putting down her pencil and making her way across the lab.

I sputtered for a second, glancing up at the screen with a mixture of confusion, horror, and surprise. It took a few seconds for me to realize I did _not_ was Paulina to see… whatever this was. I snatched the mouse one last time and clicked on the red button in the corner just before Paulina arrived.

"Star!" Paulina held her printout in one hand and put her other hand on her hip. "I wanted to keep going! I haven't designed my bridesmaids' outfits."

"Um…" I struggled to find something to say. "We're late for the mall, remember? They're having that sale…" I trailed off, mentally crossing my fingers. There was usually a sale going on.

Paulina nodded. "The sale at Mary's, right. You and I were going to go and see if they had any sandals." She looked slightly mollified by my excuse. "But I hope you saved it. We need to finish this tomorrow."

I nodded dutifully, pushing myself to my feet. I hadn't saved it, but she wouldn't be too mad with me tomorrow when she found out. I'd help her create an actually _stylish_ wedding dress later and she might thank me for it. "We can stop at that ice cream stand and get one of those collectable Phantom cups, if you want."

Grabbing my hand, she proceeded to drag me out of the computer lab and out of the school. My own mind couldn't stop whirling around the question of why Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom looked almost exactly alike. Where they related somehow? Cousins? A weird thought crossed my mind when I remembered just how much they looked alike. Were they twin brothers or something? No – they were both named Danny. You wouldn't name twins (or even brothers) the same name like that.

I shook my head, allowing myself to be propelled down the street by the exuberant Paulina as she began to prattle about her dreams for her honeymoon. It was something about a beach and dancing and stars, but I wasn't listening any more than I had to. My head was spinning with theories, facts, and observations about the two Dannys.

We brushed past Tucker, Sam, and Danny on the way to the mall and I cast a confused look in Danny's direction. What kind of connection do Fenton and Phantom have? Quite suddenly, Paulina's piddling infatuation with the ghost-boy had become a lot more interesting. I've always loved a good mystery.

Maybe Valerie will help at lunch tomorrow.

* * *

Uploaded November 18, 2007  
XD I love playing with that program...  
Thanks for reading!


	69. Wondering

_Originally uploaded on DA (the title makes sense THERE). I fixed the plethora of spelling mistakes and uploaded it here._

_Remember: 1,000th reviewer wins a oneshot of their request. Maybe this drabble, maybe the next. Good luck!_

_

* * *

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**Wondering  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

He slunk a little lower in his seat, waiting for the moment when this latest torture would be over. Ever since he parents had 'figured him out' a few weeks ago, it had been test after test, torture after torture, _hours_ upon _days_ of talking... 

The only bright point in his day was when his parents got distracted by something ghostly and left him to his own devices for awhile. Then he was free to get out of this house and haunt the town with his friends. Even though his parents wanted him to bring his phone with him when he left so they could get in contact with him, he conveniently forgot it each time. That gave him maximum 'friend' time.

Unfortunately, it didn't happen very often.

"Danny, sit up please."

Danny shivered at the soft, motherly voice before sighing, but he straightened slightly in the uncomfortable chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the secretary at the desk smile understandingly at him. Her name - which he thought was appropriate for her red hair and her green dress - was Subrosa, 'call me Rose', and she was the only person in the room that seemed to have any sympathies towards him what-so-ever. The stuff-shirt psychologist sure didn't have any.

"Mom," he whispered, risking the fact that he was about to sound like a whining five-year-old, "how much longer do we have to sit here?"

She smiled at him, the smile not quite reaching her eyes anymore. He knew, deep down in his stomach, that she hated these visits more than he did. An hour of someone questioning every single thing you had ever done was more than most people could take without breaking down into tears. But like clockwork on every Tuesday and Friday, she would dress herself up and drag him here. "Until he's ready for us."

"Mom..." He let out his breath, his protest dying on his lips at the dead look in her eyes. Complaining just made this visit worse for both of them. After a second, he just turned away and crossed his arms. Both of them were survivors, they would make it through this no matter what... but he didn't have it in him to make it harder on her.

"You can make these stop, you know," she said softly, her voice kind of brittle. "I know you hate coming here."

He didn't look at her, instead focusing his eyes on the floor as he tried to ignore the shudder that went through his body when she spoke. Not looking at her was the easiest thing to do. "We both hate coming here," he muttered darkly.

"It's for your own good. After everything that's happened..." She trailed off.

He struggled not to glance over at her to see if she was crying again. Coming to the psychologist never failed to get her in tears at least once. It made it all the worse to know that her heart was in the right place and that she was trying her _hardest_ to do the right thing. She was trying to get him help.

He could only imagine how much she was breaking on the inside every time she looked at him, figuring that how he was acting and what he was doing was all her fault. Her's and his father's.

Their lives were shattering because they knew they had done something horribly wrong.

They just didn't know what. "Danny," she said after a long moment, her voice breaking on his name, "why can't you just _talk_ to us? Tell us what's wrong?"

Danny shifted in his chair, his eyes burning as he struggled to supress the thoughts that were boiling in his head and rolling around in his stomach. Even just a month ago, he never would have put them through this. He made a promise years ago that his secret was not worth anything near this. He'd tell them before anything really dangerous happened, he'd tell them before they get hurt, he'd tell them before _he_ got hurt.

But then everything had changed.

He clamped his lips shut, refusing to look over at his mother, and just silently shook his head. He couldn't tell them, not anymore. The truth would hurt far more than these stabbing lies.

"Mrs. Fenton," a deep voice called, and Danny closed his eyes, a shudder going through his body. Another hour of torture was about to commence. "Can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?"

Danny felt his mother get off the chair next to him and heard the door click softly shut behind them. For a split second, his mind flew into panic mode as he wondered if the psychologist had somehow figured out his secret and was going to tell her. But then he calmed down. There was no way that he could know.

He did, though, wonder what Mr. Auricular was telling her behind that door. The latest plan to get him to 'talk'? To get him to tell them... anything?

Why, oh _why_, did they have to figure out that something was wrong with him? Why did they have to suddenly start wondering where he was running off to and who he was hanging out with? Why did they have to start caring?

He supposed it was partly his fault. It had been how he had been acting for the past month, after... _it_ had happened. Exactly thirty-four days and six hours previously, the worst had finally gotten him.

His parents had captured him.

He really had been going to tell them who he was as soon as it became obvious that they were going to seriously hurt him. He tried... oh, how he had tried. But as he had attempted to speak, tried to get out the words, they had blasted him with something that had scrambled his thoughts. His words had come out as gibberish, his desperate attempts to turn human slipping through his fingers.

When the pain started as they began to dissect him, his thoughts hadn't even been coherent enough to allow him to scream. Hours after it had started, his parents had gotten a call and had vanished. The fear and the inarticulate rage in Tucker's eyes as he had set his friend free a few minutes later had almost been worse than his parents torturing him. The terror that had been in Sam's eyes when he had shown up at her house had definitely been worse.

Over a month later, his ghost form was still riddled with scars, oozing wounds, and holes from his parent's experiments. He could only count his blessings that they hadn't transferred to his human form as well. But even though his physical scars hadn't come through... the mental ones had.

Despite their oblivious fixation on the supernatural, his parents had noticed that he didn't talk to them any more. They had picked up on the fact that their son's smiles were forced and fake. They noticed that he refused to be anywhere near them.

They definitely noticed that he absolutely refused to go into the lab anymore. Every time they mentioned it - after he instinctively winced away from the sound of their voices - pure fear and panic had welled up inside of him. He was positive that they had figured out that the reason he turned pure white and practically ran away from them had something to do with the lab.

They just didn't know what.

The tests had, at first, been simple. A trip to the doctor's to see if he was alright physically. A few tests from a counselor to make sure he was fine mentally. A long chat with Mr. Lancer.

Then, as more people had gotten worried, the tests had grown. A few trips to a specialist in a nearby city. A five-day stay at a hospital two states away. Long and complicated tests.

Twice-a-week visits to a psychologist that specialized in teens that suffer from 'post traumatic stress disorder'.

His parents, he knew deep down, were doing the 'right' thing. They knew something was wrong with their child and they wanted to help.

He _could_ just tell them what the problem was. He could just stop this torture that they were all going through. But he easily remembered the look on Sam's and Tucker's faces when they found out. He remembered Jazz's panic-filled reaction. He remembered the disgust and horror in Vlad's eyes when he had learned of what happened, along with his sincere attempts since then to be nicer to him. He even remembered the reactions of the ghosts when they found out. Their varied offers to 'destroy' his parents for him had been touching... in a strange way.

No. There was no way they could ever know.

Even this torture was better than what would happen if they found out.

"Daniel," the booming voice of the psychologist rang through the office.

He looked up, watching in surprise as his mother practically raced towards the door with tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mom?" he asked, jumping to his feet and glancing back at the psychologist in confusion.

The tall man walked over and placed his hand on Danny's shoulder. "She's not ever going to hurt you again. I'll make sure of that."

Danny's eyes widened. "What?" Had he really figured it out?

"Come with me." Mr. Auricular placed a hand on Danny's shoulder and steered him towards his office. "We've figured out that it's your parents that have done something to you. But now you need to tell me exactly what."

Danny dropped into the soft chair in the psychologist's office and stared glaze-eyed at the door. "What?"

* * *

Uploaded December 2, 2007  
Angst, we all love it.  
Thanks for reading!


	70. Kari

_Originally, I was going to dig in my heels and not upload anything... but I'm afraid I don't have it in me to not upload. So, here you go: Happy New Years Evil! Look for (at the least) an update of Real Life tomorrow or Wednesday. Maybe more starshots too, depending on my mood. I want to get to 100!!_

_I figure the Fenton's have other 'college buddies' than Vlad, right? Meli says that ALL their friends can't be evil… but where's the fun in that? It just ain't fun to write about wonderful, happy people. _

_Note: despite appearance, all the characters in my story are a wonderful, happy people. XD _

* * *

**Kari  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

It was right after school on Friday when _she_ showed up at the door. "Maddie!" _she_ beamed, holding out her arms and dropping her large bag. _She_ was barely five feet tall even if you included her Charlie's Angels silver heels and right-out-of-the-box scarlet-red hair. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the hair perfectly complemented the impossible-to-miss outfit that was, with no unsure definition of the word, 'psychedelic'. 

"Kari!" Mom raced through the door and caught up her old friend in a bear hug, literally lifting the smaller woman off the ground. "I heard you were in town, I was hoping you'd stop by!"

"Of course I stopped by," _she_ said with her nasally voice, winking one overly-painted eye at my mother. Then _her_ eyes fixed on me. "And this must be the little Daniel I've heard so much about." Cherry red lips stretched into a horrible smile.

I took an instinctive step backwards. If _she_ would have suddenly sprouted vampire teeth or alien antennas, I wouldn't have been unduly surprised. I'd known this person for a grand total of ten seconds and I was already convinced _she_ had either broken out of Hell or an insane asylum… either of which _she_ could feel free to go back to. This was the first time I'd ever taken such an instant dislike to someone I'd just met. It was an interesting feeling. "It's Danny," I muttered.

"Come on in," Mom said with shining eyes, ushering _her_ into our house. This lady more than deserved the italics and the snarled emphasis whenever I had to think of _her_.

_She_ grabbed her humongous bag and teetered into the living room, scanning the apparently drab room with distaste before dropping her bag with a clatter. "I see your… taste… hasn't changed since we were in college."

Mom laughed softly, clearly eyeing _her_ up and down. "I could say the same, Kari." Then she glanced over at me. "Oh, Danny, you probably don't remember Kari. She was here about ten years ago."

I was positive that if we had met when I was seven, I would've remembered _her_. As it was, _she_ was burning a scar into my brain that would be there until the day I died – probably after too. _Her_ gaze swiveled back to me. Something inside of me froze and I shivered, wishing that she'd look anywhere else.

"Kari Waterson," _she_ said, slurring her 's' slightly, then giggling at some internal joke as _she_ held out her hand for me to shake. Demon-claw fingernails painted in ten different head-spinning colors reached for me, poised to rip out my soul and feed it to Cerberus – the three-headed canine guardian of the underworld.

I did the only thing I could think of doing. My hands went behind my back and I smiled stiffly, sliding away from _her_ until the back of my head whapped against the hard wall.

"Daniel Fenton," Mom warned.

It took all of my willpower to get the appropriate hand out from behind my back and extend it out to _her_. "Nice to meet you," I ground out, not bothering to conceal the fact that I was lying through my teeth.

Mom sent me a glare, but Kari didn't seem to notice. _She_ grinned at me (ignoring my flinch) and grabbed my hand with an iron-like grip, pumping it up and down. "You've really grown! The last time I saw you, you were knee-high on the fourth of July."

I extricated my hand as quickly as I could without hurting myself on her dagger-like nails, even daring to use a bit of intangibility to help. The touch of _her_ wrinkled and sun-tanned flesh on mine sent shivers of repulsion up my spine. "Wonderful."

With proper introductions apparently over, both of them forgot all about me. I slithered down the wall and sat cross-legged as they talked about what had happened since they had last met, not willing to completely take my eyes off of _her_.

"I'm in town for the local ghost exhibit at the museum," _she_ babbled after a few minutes, "They asked me to come, being that I'm a _specialist_ and all." I wondered what _she_ could possibly do for a living that gave her the ability to say 'specialist' in such a vaguely condescending way. "I _am_ a world-famous spectral psychologist, you know. I've helped hundreds of ghosts to peacefully move on."

I quietly raised an eyebrow. I personally knew a handful of ghosts that it'd be nice if they could just 'move on'… was that why _she_ was here? I shot my mom a look but she just sent me back a smile. "You're certainly one of a kind, Kari," she said. "Are you thirsty?"

"Parched!" Kari tottered through the living room, _her_ thin legs shaking on her high heels. "Do you still have that ectoplasmic coffee maker? That made the best coffee."

Mom crouched down, intersecting the evil glare that I was sending in _her_ direction. "Kari was one of my best friends in college," she whispered to me, fixing me with a stare that spoke libraries worth of words, "and you _will_ be nice to her. I know she's a little," Mom hesitated, glancing towards the kitchen, "different, but she really is one of the stars of her field."

"A ghost _psychologist?_" I muttered back. "That's just got to be a huge field."

She flicked my nose with her finger. "Be nice."

I watched Mom walk into the kitchen before mumbling a too late and too quiet, "But she's evil." Mom didn't hear me. But after contemplating the veritable torture chamber that was the latest and greatest FentonWorks invention, I decided that her not hearing me was probably a good thing.

"Danny?" Mom called and I stiffened, wondering if she actually _had_ heard my comment. "Do you know where we put that old coffee maker?"

"The one started floating and chasing me around the house?" At Mom's nod, I tried to remember if I'd ended up burying the cursed thing in the park, if I'd given it to the Box Ghost to keep him out of my hair, or if I'd just blasted it. In the end I couldn't remember, so I just shrugged. "I don't remember," I answered truthfully.

Mom looked disappointed for a moment, but then _she_ poked her head around the door frame. _Her_ eyes were wide and her face, which was caked with cracking makeup, was arranged into surprised excitement. Somehow, it made her look even more insane that _she_ had looked earlier. "There's an unsettled ghost in this house!" _Her_ eyes glittered at the thought. "We must do a séance!"

"But Kari," my mother said after a long moment of silence, "we don't have any of the supplies…"

"Nonsense," _she_ interrupted, wiggling out of the kitchen and grabbing _her_ bag. "I brought all my things with me. A good professional is never caught unawares."

I shuddered, quietly wondering how this demonic creature could make the simple word 'things' sound so evil. "Wonderful," I said while _she_ rustled through _her_ gigantic bag. A cold finger traced down my back at the idea of being in the same house with _her_ while she was doing some sort of 'séance'. After over a year with ghost powers and being attacked every week, I trusted my instincts when they screamed at me to not be in the house. "I'm… going to go over to Sam's house for awhile."

"_NO!_" Kari grabbed my arm just before I reached the door, _her_ claw-like fingernails digging painfully into my flesh. "You can't leave! You'll give the spirit a way out of the house!"

I shot Mom a disbelieving look, mixed with a quiet plea. She glanced from my face to her friend, biting her lip. "Danny…"

Kari suddenly let go of my arm, grinning wildly, _her_ eyes sparkling with delight, obviously having decided that I wouldn't leave. "Excellent! The three of us will have a world-class séance." _She_ spun around and vanished back into the kitchen muttering something about black and white candles.

"Mom," I hissed under my breath, "I don't _want to be here_."

She looked me straight in the eyes at blinked at me, a seemingly impossible mixture of confusion and understanding on her face. For a moment, I thought she'd let me leave. "Danny, she's harmless."

She didn't look at all convinced, so I took another stab at it. "_Mom…_"

"This is _perfect!_" _she_ cackled as _she_ sauntered back out of the kitchen, carefully balancing an armload of supplies and interrupting whatever I was about to say. Mom got up and hurried over to catch some of the things that _she_ was about to drop. "We'll set up here in the living room. The coffee table is a little low, but it should do – it's a much better size than the kitchen table. Daniel, dear," I shuddered at the sound of my name, wondering at how _she_ could make her voice grate against my nerves so perfectly, "grab the other end of the tablecloth and help me lay this out."

I froze, still sitting against the wall. To be completely honest, I'd rather work the birthday party shift at the Nasty Burger than help this spawn of the devil that had appeared in our living room. Slowly, almost painfully, I shook my head. After that horrifying hand shake, I wasn't going to temp fate by going anywhere near _her_.

_She _looked a little annoyed for a moment, but then snapped out the blood-red tablecloth on her own and carefully arranged it over the coffee table. With a maniacal grin on _her_ face, _she_ drew a few small circles on the cloth with a piece of chalk, arranged the candles on the table, and then lit all but two of them. "Yes," _she_ breathed, sitting back on her shiny silver heels. "Now, Maddie, you get to light your candle."

Mom glanced back at me, clearly concerned with how I was acting. "Danny…" she hesitated, holding the white candle in her hands. "Sweetheart, are you–"

"This is delicate work!" Kari interrupted. "This isn't some amateur prank! Timing is _everything_ if we're going to get this to work properly." Then, while my mother was still looking at me, _she_ picked up one of the already lit candles and started my mother's candle.

Instantly I felt a depressing weight settle down on the room. The shadows darkened and lengthened, the flickering lights of the candles becoming bright and hypnotizing. The world seemed to spin around me for a moment before settling back down. I shivered and pressed my back against the wall, pure and irrational fear pouring into my brain.

I wanted out. I was going to phase through the wall behind me, run as fast as possible, and damn the consequences of this evil lady learning of my ghost side… but _something_ held me where I was for a split second too long.

"_Daniel, it's your turn_." Kari's voice rang in my ears and slammed into my stomach like a dagger. _Her_ eyes gleamed with a demonic light and burned into my own.

Shaking my head, I reached for my intangibility.

"_Come here_." _Her_ sharp command sliced into my brain and dashed my panic-filled attempts at phasing through the wall. I shook my head again, not wanting to get a single step closer to this God-forsaken woman. Without any prompting from me, my feet moved. Struggling every step of the way and completely against my will, my body got to its feet and walked over to the table.

"Kari, stop this," my mother said sharply, her wide eyes flickering from mine to her friend's.

Kari laughed, the sharp echo of Hell's bells clanging in _her_ voice. "_All he's got to do is light the candle,_" _she_ said, "_what's the big deal? Light the candle, Daniel._"

"No," Mom snapped. "We're stopping now, Kari."

I wanted to listen to my mom, I wanted to do what she said like nothing on the planet. But my arm was moving, my fingers grasping at one of the candles, the wick descending towards the flicking flame.

"Danny, stop," Mom told me, but I couldn't pay any attention to her and I didn't even pause at the fear that was in her voice. The candles were just about to touch, the wicks just inches apart. The flickering light scorched away everything except for the light itself, the world hesitating and hanging onto the edge of the cliff, ready to dive off into oblivion. "Danny!" Distantly, I could feel fingers that weren't tipped with garishly painted demon's claws pulled at my hand.

_Light the candle, Daniel. _

_Light it. _

_Light._

And it did.

* * *

Uploaded December 31, 2007  
Perhaps to continue?  
Thanks for reading!!


	71. Guardians: Casper High Peace Officer

_First in a short series called Guardians of the Secret. There'll be, like, four if I get them done._

* * *

**Guardians of the Secret: Casper High Peace Officer  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I know everything about everyone. I am the eye in the sky. I am the ringmaster of all things high school and drama. I am… 

Actually, I'm the security guy – also known as a peace office – and nobody gives me a second glance. I swear that nine-tenths of the students in this school don't even know I work here, much less my name. I can't really blame them, I do hide in my office for most of the day and I only get to deal with the really 'problematic' students.

The best part of my job has to be the video cameras that are scattered around the school. They feed directly to the monitors in my office. Oh – if only the world revolved around blackmail instead of money. I would be the richest man on the planet. And I don't just have the 'dish' on students; I have it on teachers as well. I know all about Teslaff's secret crush on Lancer and the fact that she keeps a rather horrible dress hidden in a drawer in her desk just in case he ever loses his obliviousness and asks her out. I know that Falluca gave Sam Manson the box to sneak the frogs out of the school and 'forgot' to lock the door to the biology lab that one time.

Of course, I also know all about Phantom.

At first, the 'ghost kid' had me quite annoyed at the way he was protecting the school. Think about it from my point of view for a moment: I went through five years of college, seven years of work on an inner-city police force, _and_ gave up my summer for specialized training in order to get this job. Then, after months of nothing happening in this city worth writing home about, I finally get something to do…

And some no-name ghost takes care of it for me.

Why?! I remember the first time I saw the lunch lady ghost, watching on my video cameras as she took over the school cafeteria, my mind racing as I pictured what would happen next. I would stand up, rush to the scene, tazer in my hand and mentally cursing the fact that I didn't carry a better weapon on school grounds. Then I'd be the hero. I'd protect those students by sending that evil ghost into oblivion. I'd get to be on _Oprah_, and _Letterman_, and all sorts of news broadcasts – probably worldwide. I might even get to be on a cereal box.

I had just been about to walk out of my office and confront the ghost in a (no doubt) very heroic fashion when I saw movement on my screen. Three no-account ninth graders were talking to the ghost! I had frozen at that moment, trying to figure out what to do. Those kids were in danger and there was no way I could get to them in time.

Then I saw the middle boy – the blue eyed, black haired one – transform into a ghost for the first time. I remember the dazed horror that had filled me, the impossible-ness of the situation, and finally the terror that had clawed at my throat as I watched one of the students I was supposed to be protecting launch himself at the lunch lady ghost.

Dull panic thrummed through me for nearly a week after the first time I watched, riveted, as young Danny Fenton fought. The annoyance at the fact that he had stolen my shining moment came only after I had finally decided that he hadn't truly gotten hurt… and the slight irritability had faded fast. I really wasn't prepared to fight a ghost. I would have probably just gotten myself hurt, if not killed.

It took another week to figure out what I was supposed to do with this knowledge. One of the students was, in fact, a ghost! Between reading up on how to fight ghosts (there is surprisingly little information on that field) and trying to figure out how to write up ghost-evacuation plans, I went through the student handbook and district rules with a fine toothed comb. I wasn't too shocked when I found there wasn't a single rule on the students needing to be alive to attend school.

Also missing was the school board ruling on whether or not I needed to report this new-found bit of information. The child was, for all I knew, dying or perhaps dead. I am a mandated reporter… I legally _have_ to report abuse and neglect. Does being partially dead qualify as neglect? Or does this kid have some kind of disability; IEP or section 504-ish?

I suppose it goes without question that I had a serious headache throughout that entire mess. I was never very good at reading through dry, legal matter. It didn't occur to me until nearly a month after this startling revelation about Danny's life to go talk to someone else. This turned out to be a vaguely mixed blessing when I finally figured out the boy's parents didn't even know about his ailment.

Is _that_ neglect?

Since those troubling first few weeks, Danny has given me any number of issues. He will probably never know that I swivel the cameras to follow his every movement when he's 'sneaking' through the school. He'll probably never realize that I'm almost obsessive about knowing where the poor kid is at any given moment when he's at school and how I hold my breath when his fights take him outside my protective gaze. Other than his friends and (I'm growing to realize) his older sister, I'm his only link at some sort of safety net for what he's doing.

I wonder what he'd say if he ever found out that I've known his deepest secret since his ninth grade year. Sometimes I find a small smile on my face when I think about the expression on his face when he realizes I've known all this time and still haven't told a soul – alive or otherwise. (Okay, so that's not totally true. I couldn't keep that kind of information to myself. But I'm pretty sure my goldfish isn't going to be repeating my words anytime soon.)

I am the eye in the sky. I am the ringmaster of all things high school and drama. I know everything about everyone.

Who am I? Why should it matter – nine-tenths of you didn't even know I was there.

* * *

Uploaded January 9, 2008  
:D Go on, raise your hand if you didn't think about cameras ever.  
Thanks for reading!!


	72. Guardians: The Neighbor

_Second in the series. Written kind of weird… but whatever. Practicing character development through dialog, and I had the (weird) brainwave of getting rid of everything BUT that character's dialog to see if I could create a character that way._

* * *

**Guardians of the Secret: The Neighbor  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

My name is Mrs. Marilyn Perkensin and you need to get the hell off of my front steps. What do you think you're doing, coming up here and ringing my doorbell like this? I'm an old woman. Do you have any idea how much it hurts my hips to have to get out of my chair? I might have fallen and gotten myself in serious trouble because you rang my doorbell… 

My window? You're here about my broken window? Are you going to fix it?

Newspaper? You're not from the window company? Darn! I've called them a dozen times to get it fixed. My idiot neighbors cracked three of my windows a week ago. Yes – the one right over there with the neon sign that violates seven different city ordinances and the attic that _clearly_ breaks building code and intrudes on my space.

That wouldn't work. I've called the police on them a half-dozen times but the Fentons apparently have a 'free and clear' pass when it comes to all things ghostly because of their civic duties or some such nonsense. Not that any kind of flexible judgments come into play with us neighbors. Oh no! One little tree too close to a fence and you've got the city commissioner herself camping on your stoop until you get the darned thing trimmed.

I was not off track, child. If you're not here to fix my window, why are you here?

You want to know the story of how it was cracked? You going to write it up in your newspaper column?

Well then, come on in, child. I'll fix you a cup of hot chocolate or something while I tell you the story. I don't get to ramble to too many people now-a-days. They just tune me out and think I'm too senile to notice. Not that I am senile, mind you. I admit that my mind is being left around the house in little bits and pieces that get swept up with the dust bunnies, but my faculties are still well in order. Close the door behind you, would you?

Do you like my binoculars? My grandson got them for me for my birthday a few years ago and I haven't been able to put them down. There are some very interesting things going on around this neighborhood. The girl just down the block is clearly cheating on her boyfriend and the guy across the street is having an affair…

The window? Oh, right. Find a seat; I'll get you that hot chocolate. Just push the cat to the ground – he doesn't need to be sitting up on my couch anyways. It's so hard to get cat hair off of the cushions. I've been trying to teach him to stay on the ground, but it just doesn't work too well. That's a cat for you. Anyways… my window was cracked about a week ago. Eight days, to be precise. It happened at 2:37pm. I know this because the explosion woke me out a very nice nap and I looked at the clock.

Yes, explosion. You see, my neighbors are some sort of weird 'ghost' scientists. I'm sure there are radiation and other toxic substances leaking out of their basement laboratory and giving everyone in the area five different forms of cancer. I've tried calling the EPA and the health inspectors on them but nothing ever happens. Small explosions happen on a pretty regular basis. Their house even totally vanished for a few days four years ago.

You heard me right, child. Vanished. Got sucked into an alternate dimension, or so they said later. Not sure I believe them though. But as for the explosion eight days ago – that was a doozy. It rocked the entire neighborhood and set off all the car alarms in a two block radius. It gave me a huge headache. It wasn't until I was getting out the cat's supper that I realized that the explosion had cracked the window in my kitchen. Of course, I then had to search throughout my entire house and discovered two more broken windows. Ah, here's your hot chocolate luv.

You're more than welcome. Think about it: t_hree _windows needing replacing. I'm on a very restricted budget – I can't afford to randomly fix windows when my neighbor's house explodes! I did the only thing I could thing of.

What was it that I did? Why, I marched right outside and up their walk to knock on their front door. I didn't even remember to finish feeding the cat there… just left his food on the counter like no-never-you-mind. Of course, the man that answered the door was that oaf of a human, Jack Fenton. How a man that distractible ever managed to graduate from college I will never know. I gave him a piece of my mind, I did, right there on the stoop of his house. You know what he did?

He wasn't listening to a word that I said. I had a grievance against the family and he wasn't even going to hear me out! What kind of a neighbor is _that_?

You're right; I didn't get anywhere talking to him. He kept trying to change the topic to the new thing he had just discovered – some supposedly revolutionary ghost thing. I finally asked to speak to the Missus of the house. Madeline is a little… eccentric when it comes to her job, but she's a dedicated mother and a nice woman when you can get past the horrid blue jumpsuit she insists of wearing. You know what would have it? Madeline wasn't home. She had gone out to get some groceries so she could make supper. Now, what that family eats is their own business, I'm sure, but the next time I see some of their food running down the street I will call social services on those people. A home that is that chaotic and radiation-filled can _not_ be a good place to raise children.

So there I am, standing on the stoop, looking past the immense orange jumpsuit that was Mr. Fenton and into their horribly dirty living room. The sofa was upside down for heaven's sake! I ask you, what kind of household has an upside down sofa? Not one of the respectable homes that should be on my street, I know that for sure.

Yes, I know that something had just exploded in their house but that had been _hours_ earlier. Surely their first priority had been to clean their home and get it presentable again? Well, in the shape it was there was no way I was going to be inviting myself in to wait. I was going to just turn around and come back when Madeline returned from the store when I saw young Daniel walking down the stairs.

Who? Oh, Daniel is the youngest child of Jack and Madeline. He's a rather nice boy, all in all. Fortunately he's inherited most of his parents' better traits while evading some of their more dubious bits. All except for that ghost stuff. He's just as deep into ghost hunting as the rest of his family – not that anyone is supposed to know. I know… but then again I know everything that goes on in this block. And the poor boy's parents are too obsessed over their ghost technology to even notice what their own son is doing. Not that I'm going to enlighten them, of course. It gives me something to do when I'm on my own; it's fun watching them interact. You know that the Fentons' don't have any shades on their windows? You can look straight in.

Anyways, I saw Daniel on the stairs and he smiled at me, waving. Daniel has always been so nice to me; he helped me replant my roses when a ghost destroyed them a few months ago. I called Daniel over to talk to me. I knew that I could get some kind of response now that I had a responsible member of the family to talk to.

Of course the boy is responsible. I may be old and alone, but I'm not blind and don't you insinuate it, child. Even if I've only seen a quarter of what that boy has single-handedly done for this town, he is responsible in every turn of the word. And that girlfriend of his is always so nice to me as well. I think young Samantha likes my garden. When I saw such a responsible boy on the stairs, I immediately felt better.

Well, yes, I explained what had happened and the boy listened to me. I love it when people listen to me. He just smiled at me and told me that it wasn't a problem, that he was sure his mom would be able to cover it since it was their fault that it happened. He even apologized to me! Can you believe that – the boy truly felt bad about my windows getting broken while the child was at school. But I suppose that makes sense, being what the boy is.

You don't know? Well, I'm not going to tell you! I've kept that secret near and dear to my heart for months now and I'll go to the grave with the darned thing if I need to. It's not many secrets that an old bat like me get to be privy to and I'm not about to lose that. Besides, young Daniel has entrusted me with his secret, even though he doesn't know I know it.

How did I figure it out? It was rather simple – it all started about a year ago when he rescued my cat out of the big old tree that that evil city commissioner made me trim. I wondered for hours how he got my sweet kitty out of the tree; there weren't any branches anywhere near the ground and I didn't remember seeing a ladder. So I dug out my grandson's binoculars and started watching. He doesn't have any shades on his windows, remember, so I could often see him and his two friends playing around in that messy room of his. I've mentioned to Madeline a few times that Daniel should keep his room cleaner. But the first time I caught him and he gave away his secret was when he was standing in the backyard of his house, staring up at one of those ghosts that regularly terrorize this city.

No, I don't know which ghost it was, nor do I care. Do I look like a fact book on ghosts? I'm not memorizing the names of all the ghosts that hang around. I don't even know the names of all my neighbors.

In the backyard, I saw a flash of light and then I watched, in amazement, as young Daniel proceeded to save my recycling from the ghost. I peered out the window as Daniel made quick work of the ghost and then he stopped to clean up all the cardboard that had been spilled on my drive. Now _that_ is a responsible young gentleman. Saves my recycling and then cleans up after himself. It almost makes me wish I was sixty years younger.

'Course, I've seen this flash of light dozens of times – I try to keep an eye on the child. His parents don't know about what he does at night. I can't say that I'm surprised when it comes to that wall of a father he's got, but I don't understand why Madeline hasn't figured it out yet. I'm sure their daughter, Jasmine, has.

Why do I keep an eye on him? Well, why not? Wouldn't you keep an eye on a child that was doing so much to protect you and the world around you? I wouldn't be able to grow my roses or keep tabs on the affair going on across the street if young Daniel weren't around.

No, of course I'm never going to tell him. Why should I? Daniel is secure in his belief that only a few people know his secret and I'm not going to shatter that. Beliefs are important – always have been, always will be. But I watch the child when I can, just to make sure he doesn't get hurt. I like him a lot more than most of my grubby grandchildren, I tell you that. If I had anything worth leaving when I pass on, I'd will it all to Daniel and leave my family to fight over this old furniture.

You have to leave? Why – I was just getting started in my rambling. I still haven't told you about Mrs. Tyler's illegal bird house or the latest news from the affair across the street.

Well, you're welcome for the hot chocolate if you're sure you have to leave. You're also welcome to come back as long as you bring the window repairing company along with you. I called them a week ago, you know, and they still haven't come. Maybe they hope that I'll pass on before they get around to coming here and then they won't have to do the work.

If you truly must go, so long. Please close the door behind you, I don't want to get up. My hips are hurting me today.

And please don't walk on the grass! I just got it watered and seeded!

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Uploaded January 11, 2008  
Eh... Okay. :)  
Thanks for reading!!


	73. Sweet Dreams

_This is the first, only, and (hopefully) LAST voluntary foray into the world of second person present point of view (may it rot in pieces over a pit of hellfire and brimstone). _

_Crazy, man. CRAZY. _

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**Sweet Dreams  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

You slide out of bed as the distant clock begins to chime midnight, unconscious of the cold air nipping at your legs. Dreamily, you start to slip through the deserted hallways of your parents' house. Soft carpet under bare feet, hard walls brush outstretched fingertips, quick breaths swirl in the silence. You pad into the shadows, moving ever closer to where you are to be. Your heart stirs, your body sighs… hesitates. 

"_Come sweet children of this town_," it sings, siren-sweet, rippling and echoing softly in perfect counterpoint to the deep ringing of the old clock, "_come sing and dance with me…"_ The words are barely there, but still it pulls you ever closer. You move your bare feet, drifting ghost-like in the night. Eyes close, one hand reaches blindly forwards as the other slips along the wall. Walk towards the faerie-like sound; enchanted, unthinking, entranced.

Lost to your walking dream, your fingers brush against the frozen surface of a mirror and you pause, eyes flickering open. You study your reflection as unhappiness blooms and worry coalesces at the sight of your own eyes; ragged-edged pupils shatter into your mind making you stir and wake. "_Pretty_," the voice soothes and the image of the possessed child falls to moth-like pieces. Sleep mussed hair and dream tarnished eyes vanish into dreamy oblivion. You give in to the soft warmth of the voice and smile. Drowsy, absently, you move on. The mirror is not your destination. You don't give another thought to what you had seen or to the worry that had fluttered like a broken bird in your breast. "_Beautiful child, we'll sing and we'll dance 'till the morning comes and then we'll go to sleep…_."

One step, two, you float ever closer to the voice, lips parting, heart racing. You can float, you will fly, it's all a dream – a soft, feathery illusion of life. You are comforted by the knowledge that your body lies safe in its bed, tucked under the heavy warmth of the covers. Secure, shielded, snug. It doesn't matter what happens now… _j_ust _g_o _wi_th _it… come and dance… _

A quick clunk of the attic door opening makes you descend from your flitting, dreaming loft to listen to the clock continuing to chime deeply. Five chimes now. Then six. "_You'll sleep forever lost in dreams…" _The sweet voice draws your attention back to what you were doing and you smile and glide silently into the dusty attic. You're almost there, you're almost were you need to be. Cool moonlight shines through a dusty window. Not closed, not locked; the one window of the house not fixed shut against the night. "_You'll never raise your head…_"

You drift across the floor, unmindful of the splinters and broken things under your gentle footsteps. Dust settles into a fantastic cape around you in the soft night. "_You'll try so hard to wake yourself…" _The window opens; the sounds of the night flood around you, the words of the almost-heard song fluttering into your ears. "_But you'll never see this Earth again…" _You lean forwards, the window sill cutting into your palms, trying to hear more of the impossible song. Trying to find the ethereal singer. You breathe deeply in the spring air. "_Please, beautiful child… dance with me…_"

"_Sing with me…"_ You stare out into the starry sky, tracing the constellations and the gorgeous moon with your eyes. Below you, the clock chimes for the tenth time. Echoing through the dark and still night, the town clock rings heavily through the still darkness, the voice being carried on its calming waves.

You don't know it, but all over the town other children had been pulled from their beds, half asleep, drawn as far up into their houses as they could get. Hundreds of eyes join your own, blink blearily up at the moon as clocks around the town chime for the eleventh time. "_Come and sing…"_

Feet push ineffectively against the ground as you wish that you could fly in this wondrous dream. Fly up to find the voice. Fly up to find the person who could sing so beautifully. _"…sweet songs…"_ Your toes catch a purchase on the windowsill and you pull yourself up to teeter precariously on the crumbling sill.

It's all a dream. You want to fly, you wish to fly, and you finally decide that you can in this sticky-sweet dream of yours. It's all you ever wanted – to go find the voice that has been calling and singing for you. The song would go on forever if only you could find it. All over town, children perch on ledges, windows, and rooftops… waiting for the last, deep chime of the midnight hour.

_"… with me…"_ The clocks toll out the end of the day, the song ripples out into the new morning hours and dies away. You, and hundreds of children like you, throw themselves into the air to fly.

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_Based off a song written by me as part of the group DM3 entitled 'Sweet Dreams'. Freaky, ethereal lyrics with a clock bonging in the background for the first bit. I always pictured this kind of thing as the music video… if we were ever good enough to get a music video… __Found the score we wrote, I'll try to scan it and upload it on DA today if you've got some musical talent so you can hear how it goes. 'Sweet Dreams' is copyrighted by DM3._

_Ghost is supposed to be some Nocturne/Ember/Pied Piper kind of thing. Not really sure what happened in my head to cause this. Comes from having a horrible day yesterday, I think.

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_

Uploaded January 26, 2008  
:D The song is better than the drabble.  
Thanks for reading!


	74. An Uncommon Birthday

_This is as close to crack fics as I get, peoplez. Don't torment me about it. Based off a picture that didn't turn out nearly as well as the drabble did. A picture is worth a thousand words only when you can draw as well as you can write. _

_Yeah, it's early, but Happy Fourth Birthday Danny Phantom. ;) Maybe my picture will be done at the right time._

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**An Uncommon Birthday  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"This is both sick _and_ wrong at the same time. I never thought I'd live to see something _this_ twisted." He leaned a little bit farther over the railing, craning his neck to see around a huge woman who had planted herself right in his view.

"Come on, Danny," Tucker muttered, his back against the fence and his gaze focused on the tiny screen of his PDA as it showed the slightly-delayed live broadcast of the ceremony taking place only a hundred feet away, "Amity Park has done worse than this."

"I can't think of anything weirder and more wrong since the 'Inviso-Bill' era."

Tucker snickered, shutting off his PDA to turn around and view the festivities in person. "How about Inviso-Bill's baby sister 'Intangi-Belle'?"

Laughing softly, Danny shook his head. "If Dani hears you calling her that, she _will_ kill you in your sleep. She hates her nickname more than I did."

"Dude, if she comes after me, I'll just tell her which friendly neighborhood halfa came up with it."

"Except," Danny added with a small predatory grin, "when she tries to kill me I might just accidentally tell her which techno-geek slipped it to the press."

Tucker opened and closed his mouth a few times before eying his friend. "Evil, man. Very evil."

Both the boys grinned at each other for a moment before turning back to watch the strange celebration taking place in the main cemetery of Amity Park. Huge television cameras were parading on the grass between the newly-cleaned headstones, world-famous anchors were sending live feeds back to their respective stations, and the state's governor herself was standing on the small podium giving the mandatory speech before a background of family plots and angelic monuments. "Sick and _wrong_," Danny repeated.

A girl dressed in violet and black clumped over, the sadistic smile on her face at odds with her Gothed-out wardrobe and normally dissident air. "Happy Birthday, Phantom," she whispered under her breath as she stuffed a few brochures into their hands. "I hear you're turning four today."

Danny got a pained expression in his face as he flipped open the top pamphlet and read a few lines, his eyes flickering up every now and then to the 'present' the city was getting set to unveil. "Four years to the freaking day that stupid meat monster tried to destroy the school," he whispered under his breath. "Only in Amity Park would they celebrate _that_."

"There is definitely something in the water here causing people to go crazy," Tucker agreed as he paged through a pamphlet of helpful 'Phantom Phacts' that looked like it had been put together by Paulina's set of Phantom groupies. "I still think my theory of leeching ectoplasmic radiation from your parents' portal into the local groundwater has merit."

"Did you see what they're giving you?" Sam interrupted with a sadistic chuckle, extracting one of the bigger flyers from the pile and displaying it for both boys to see.

Danny was quiet, choosing to shake his head and close his eyes. Tucker, however, broke down laughing. He grabbed the glossy picture out of her hands and stared at it through his watering eyes. "A _gravestone?_" he managed to gasp between chuckles, "Daniel Phantom, _may he continue to walk amongst us_!?" Dropping to his knees, Tucker struggled to breathe and laugh at the same time. "They're giving a ghost a gravestone!"

"Sick, twisted, wrong, idiotic, stupid, backwards…" Danny mumbled darkly under his breath.

"I hear you on _that_," came an annoyed voice from behind them. Danny glanced over his shoulder and into the smoldering eyes of Valerie Grey. "No matter what you think about that poltergeist and giving him a gift, Phantom is _dead_ which means he's already got a gravestone somewhere." She folded her arms and sent an arched-eyebrow glare at the boy on the ground holding his breath in an attempt to control his laughter. "It's got to be like giving someone two identical sweaters or something."

Tucker snorted and collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. "_Sweaters…_"

"Um… Oo-kay," Valerie drawled with a skeptical look. "Sweaters aren't that funny, Tucker, and neither is this stupid party. That ghost doesn't deserve a present for trying to destroy the school four years ago."

"I think," Sam added, unable to keep her smile down, "the general thought wasn't to celebrate that fight. There's an idea going around that _Phantom_ would feel more at ease here if we gave him a grave. You know… like a home. He might stop pulling his vanishing act and stick around more if there was a place for him to 'live'."

Suppressing a shudder, Danny pulled the picture out of Tucker's grip and cast a dubious look at the simple gravestone. "Yeah, it looks very… welcoming."

"No ghost is going to fall for that," Valerie grumbled, "much less one as smart as Phantom." Despite her words, there was a glint in her eye as she leaned over the fence to study the celebration. "Think we're going to get to go see it?"

"According to the pamphlet we are." Sam pointed to the line. "After the governor's speech and a few of the local celebrities make their move. See? It's Phantom Appreciation Day." She shot Danny a look with a fierce smile. "You can even buy _flowers_ to put on his grave."

On the ground, Tucker – who had just started to regain control of his laughter – broke down again, pulling his glasses off and wiping tears from his eyes. Danny simply groaned and turned away, propping his arms up on the fence next to Valerie and watching the governor finish her speech.

Valerie reached into her bag and pulled out a small object Danny recognized as one of her new proximity grenades. "Think we can leave other gifts as well?" she asked absently, tossing the item up and down in her hands. "I'm going to go get in line."

Sam and Danny watched Valerie walk away before Sam slipped over and took Valerie's place at the fence. "You're loving this, aren't you?" Danny breathed.

"Tucker is," she agreed quietly, her beautiful smile still gracing her face, glancing down at the gasping techno-geek on the ground. "And me too, a little. Face it, wonder-boy, you deserve a little torture now and then."

"A little. Can we go yet?" Danny looked at her pleadingly.

"NO!" Tucker sputtered, pushing himself off the ground and digging out his camera phone. "You've got to go put a flower on the grave."

Sam snickered while Danny harshly shook his head. "No way in a _million years_. I'm not going to go put a flower on _my own grave_. That's… not right!"

"You owe me," Tucker grinned. "You owe me for the dance Freshman year, you owe me for messing with my jealousy, you owe me for making me the bad guy and the fall guy and the third wheel and the joke of this trio for four years." Tucker dug through his pocket, pulling out a five dollar bill and stuffing it into Danny's protesting hands. "I'll even buy the flower for you."

Danny stared down at the money, his arm shaking. "Sam…" he whimpered, turning to his friend but breaking off when he saw that she'd be no help. He really did deserve to give Tucker his day after all this time. He sighed. "Fine."

"Nobody will even notice," Sam soothed from her spot at the fence, watching the ceremony with her sharp, violet eyes. "Check out how many people are in line to give 'Phantom' presents that he… you… probably will never open." She grinned at the two boys. "Isn't it kind of touching and sweet how many people want to say thanks for what you've been doing all these years?"

Danny and Tucker stared at the Goth like she'd grown another head. "Did Sam just say 'touching' _and_ 'sweet'?" Danny whispered.

Tucker nodded faintly. "In the same sentence, even. You sure she's not overshadowed again? You could kiss her and find out."

With an eye roll, Danny pulled Tucker's hat over his eyes and glanced over at Sam. There _was_ the chance that Sam was overshadowed and kissing her _would_ help him figure it out…

Instead, he just shook his head and turned to go buy a black carnation from the flower stand. As the governor finished her speech, he ended up in the long line of people wanting to put gifts on Phantom's grave. He saw, to his dubious amazement, that many of the people were carrying presents wrapped in colorful, ghost-designed wrapping paper. Very few of them were simply going to drop a flower onto the grave.

It took awhile, but as he was finally at the point where he could drop the flower onto his grave. He stepped up carefully, staring at the veritable mountain of gifts that had piled up. "Wow…"

A cold finger ran down his spine as he stepped a little closer, reading the carefully carved words on the gravestone. It felt like someone was walking on his… He glanced down with a sardonic grin as he realized where his feet were. Somewhere behind him, he knew that Tucker was snapping a well-earned blackmail picture of him putting a flower on his own gravestone. "It's still sick and wrong," he said one last time, dropping the flower onto his grave and walking away.

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Uploaded January 27, 2008  
Inspired by 'Rest in Pieces'  
Thanks for Reading!


	75. Guardians: Ghost Insurance

_Third in the series. Enjoy!_

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**Guardians of the Secret: Ghost Insurance  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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I love Phantom. I love him in the most platonic way possible – I'd no doubt jump in front of a bullet for the kid, much less keep that blasted secret of his. Not that I haven't thought of selling the information to someone else (I'd probably make millions off a secret that big) but truth is he's making me more money the way it is. As long as the kid is making me truck-loads of cash, his secret is safe with me. I'm the veritable Fort Nox of secrets when it works for me. _Especially_ when it's got to do with ghosts. Let me tell you why... 

See, Amity Park and surrounding area have always had a huge ghost problem. Everybody knows that; we're not the most haunted place in America for no reason. You can go back a hundred years and find stories of ghosts and demons and witches and the like. But it was only three years ago that the ghost attacks came out of folklore and started to get dangerous. People started to get hurt. Property started to get damaged.

Money needed to be made…

Me? At that point, I was sitting in control of a little, backwater insurance agency that was three feet from going under and declaring bankruptcy. I actually had the stinking paperwork sitting on my desk, in triplicate, ready to be signed and sent in. I hated getting up in the mornings. I hated thinking about what was coming. I hated going to work.

That despair and destitute feeling was one of the reasons I was walking past the school one fateful day three years ago rather than at work where I should have been. I stopped for a few moments to watch the most amazing debate going on between (apparently) a group of vegans and a group of carnivores. I didn't care at all - I've always been under the impression that stupid demonstrators deserved to be hosed and locked up for a week - but it gave me something to do that _wasn't_ signing papers that signaled the end of my career, so I leaned against the fence to watch.

The whole thing blew up. Not entirely figuratively either – I'm sure you've heard the story by now – and you should have seen the _damage_. The school was trashed, seventeen vehicles were totaled, a ten-grand prime Bose stereo system was destroyed… in the end a little more than seventy thousand dollars of damage had been done.

I was gripping the fence, my eyes wide, unable to breathe when it had happened. I pictured the carnage in my head for _hours_ after Phantom captured the meat monster and sent it packing back where it came from. I wasn't afraid, or pitying, or concerned – not really. I was standing there that entire time, transfixed nearly until the sun set, with a demented grin growing on my face as two facts screamed in my head over and over:

Seventy thousand dollars worth of damage.

_None of it was insured against ghosts._

Are you freaking kidding me?! Phantom dropped a primo business deal straight into my pocket. He'd just saved my insurance company and would probably make me a very rich man. My life was saved, my business fixed, my future back on track.

I'm not sure how I ended up back at my office that day, but I'm pretty sure it was at a dead sprint based off of how out of breath I was. It took a whole of fifteen hours to officially change my company from a dying life insurance company to a lively ghost insurance company (puns totally intended). By the time I opened for business the next day, I had a new ghost-based logo already designed, a nice catch-phrase (When ghosts come your way, we'll help you pay!), and had plans to hire an interior decorator to come up with some paranormal-based layout for the office.

Can you believe the suckers in Amity Park? They ate it up! I had over a hundred businesses paying prime insurance rates within a week, nearly two hundred individuals that insured themselves or their property against ghosts, and even the government had approached me about insuring their offices and state property after a few fiascos at the local high school. By the end of the third month I had written nearly three thousand policies, hired seventeen employees, and had a personal secretary.

I. Had. It. _Made_.

There were minor ghost disasters, I paid out and made people new again, and eventually even lowered my gouging insurance rates. But I was still rolling in dough. I loved it, and I loved that ghost that was keeping everything going. I loved him even more after one of my employees had the idea to offer 'visitor insurance' for people coming to see the sights and hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous phantom hero without risk to their personal belongings. Talk about taking candy from babies: fifty bucks a pop for a week of visitor insurance and I've only had to pay out once for a broken camera.

For two whole years, the world was my oyster as my business expanded and grew... then that darned boy nearly ruined everything. It was after a rather routine insurance claim after 'Technus' attacked some minor electronics store. The owner was claiming about five thousand in damages and lost revenue and the Fentons had already been through the place to verify that 'ghostly activity' had taken place recently. The only snag was the darned security officer making a phone call to me a few days after the flurry of police activity had died down. He had sounded so weird when he had told me he had something I just had to see.

There it had been in damning grainy black and white. Phantom - the hero ghost who had made my career and future - turning into a human. The security offer had been beside himself at the news. That's where the mysterious ghost ran off to all the time; he could hide as a human! Later, I fell down and praised every single god I could think of that the idiot didn't recognize the boy on the image... or that he wasn't quick thinking enough to sell it to the media. As it was, it cost me sixty-five grand to silence the dope and get that section of the video destroyed.

Sixty-five grand. That's more than I pay my employees for two years of service. But I coughed it up to the dough to silence the evidence that Phantom was actually the Fentons' youngest son and he'd better thank me some day when he figures out what I had to go through to save his sorry secret. Despite my complaining, there's no doubt I'd probably do it again in a heart beat. I'm too fond of my sports car and downtown condo to let the boy ruin my new-found life.

Until the day comes when I plan to retire and sell the boy's secret to the highest bidder - a couple more years at least - I'll just sit back and enjoy the life. It's impossibly fun to see the expression on the kid's face when he gets dragged with his parents to 'investigate' a ghost attack and he finds out how much damage was actually done. There are some days when I'd almost be willing to forgo getting paid just for the comic relief.

_Almost_. Not quite. I love money.

So for now - since the money is flowing in - his secret is safe with me.

Feel like buying some Ghost Insurance? I have some nice policies for individuals starting at only a quarter a day - let me get you a pamphlet...

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Uploaded January 28, 2008  
Yeesh...I don't do greedy and self-centered well.  
Thanks for Reading!


	76. The School

_**Warning**: blatant mass child homicide _

_**Rated upper 'T' level, almost 'M'**: Please do not read if you don't like horror, death, and extreme emotional turmoil. You have been aptly warned and don't complain to me if you've read it and you're not happy. _

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**The School**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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His footsteps echoed eerily in the silent halls of the small elementary school. The only noises that whispered in his ears were the buzzing of the lights and the quiet swooshing of the vents as the school labored to keep the lifeless school at a humane temperature. It wasn't working – the school was practically a deep freezer, frost curling on the windows and water slowly freezing in the pipes. Frostbite would have been a definite concern for anybody left alive in the colorfully decorated hallways. 

He stepped carefully over the sprawled body of a young child, tears springing to his simmering eyes, struggling not to take a breath of the toxic air. Even after all these years, the act of breathing was still deeply ingrained into his unconscious and his mind was screaming at him to take a breath. He ignored the distant burning of his lungs with a serious finality, reminding himself over and over that he didn't really need to breathe. Shoes scuffling softly on the tiles, he continued down the hallway past the child, the thick yellow cloud of deadly poison billowing around his feet.

Feet brushed against a cold hand and he jumped into the air, startled by the sudden and unexpected contact. A girl, not much more than seven or eight years old, had been curled unnoticed in a corner, her lifeless fingers outstretched on the floor in a desperate plea for help that didn't come in time. He knelt down and quietly studied her scared expression, anger and fear coiling in his gut as he tried to imagine who or what could have done this to a bunch of little kids. Then he gently reached forwards and closed the girl's brown eyes.

He continued down the hall, carefully watching where his feet were being placed on the floor. The small forms of the dead children littered the tiles in ever-increasing numbers as he approached the classrooms at the end of the wing. Panic and fear were evident on each of the innocent, upturned faces and more than a few were twisted in pain.

He tried to not let their dying screams echo in his ears, no matter how clearly he could still see their last, precious moments of life in his mind. Kids collapsing to the floor, people racing for the doors and the dubious safety the outside world represented, shrieks of terror filling the tiny hallways, tears of horror when children fell to the ground and began to realize their lives were over before they had even begun.

His body stopped all forward motion and he just stood still in the sea of death, listening to the paranormal cries of the children who had already breathed their last. He couldn't take another step, he couldn't look at another pale face, he couldn't stand to have another kid's final moments ingrained in his brain for all of eternity. Swaying back and forth against the half-imagined screams and pleas of the children's spirits, he closed his eyes and let tears fall from his sparkling eyes. For this moment, he just let himself feel all the pain, rage, and terror that filled the school like a supernatural tornado.

It was in this quiet moment of non-movement that he heard it: echoing laughter and condemned, insane giggling swirling lightly down the hallway above the whirring of the vents. His eyes flickered open and he swept his gaze to the room at the end of the wing. After a moment, he saw movement where there shouldn't have been any.

His heart jumped into his chest, the dead reverberation of his heartbeat loud in his ears, and struggled not to gasp and breathe the deadly poison that still swept through the school. Movement could mean one of two things: a survivor against all odds… or the one who created this, wrapped up and safe from its own deadly effects. For a second more he stayed where he was, wavering between which it could be; hoping against hope for a survivor, despite the incredibly slim odds.

Finally he pushed the concept of gravity out of his mind and his feet drifted off the ground. No more walking among the dead; now was the time to fly.

The sounds were coming from classroom thirty-one near the end of the hallway. The door was partially closed, the shadowed movement and demonic noises coming from within. His eyes flickered sadly over the colorful signs on the doorway, proclaiming the class to be a kindergarten room, just finished celebrating its 100th day of school. Slowly, he lowered himself until his feet were a few inches above the floor, reached out, and pushed open the door to the classroom.

The room was colorfully decorated, rich with posters, pictures, and artwork obviously done by the students. Four tables were set up in the center of the room and, he noted in horror as he swallowed heavily, each chair contained the lifeless body of a kindergarten student. Eyes blank and staring, the kids' bodies were sprawled out over tables or propped up in their chairs.

"Ah," a voice whispered, echoing in his head with the distant howl of the wind, "a new student. Children, be nice and say hi!"

He looked towards the front of the class, tearing his frozen gaze away from the small corpses. In the front of the room stood the teacher, her feet dangling a few inches off the ground, dead eyes gazing straight at him, pale face arranged into a mockery of a smile. When next the demonic voice spoke, the young woman's mouth didn't move in time to the words. "What's your name, child?"

Shaking his head, unable to speak without taking a breath of air, he just gazed at the spirit possessing the body of the teacher. It tipped the teacher's head to the side, twisting it until the definite _crack_ of breaking neck bones shot through the room, the lifeless smile never wavering from her lips as the spirit righted the head again. "Take a seat," it murmured through his mind, gesturing with the teacher's hand at a still-empty chair. Cobwebs formed in his brain, brushing against his senses and clouding his thoughts. "Take a deep breath. Calm yourself, there's no need to fear. We're all safe here," the voice soothed.

He raised a hand, knowing that his whole arm was trembling, and shook his head fiercely, shaking out the dust out of his mind. Tears were burning in his eyes as he watched the lifeless form of the teacher drift over to the blackboard and clumsily pick up a piece of chalk. It didn't seem to notice that he hadn't spoken, hadn't taken a seat, hadn't moved. He was in and out of its obsessive thoughts in a flash. "Now students, we're going to work on our lowercase 'm's today – I've been noticing that we've been having some trouble making the arches smoothly."

Spreading his fingers, energy sparkled to life against his skin and quiet horror flooded through his body. This spirit had no idea what it had just done, no comprehension of the fact that it had killed hundreds of innocent children. It wasn't malicious; it just _was_. A scion of the condemned, doomed forever to wander the universe cloaked in a shroud of sulfurous poison. Hellfire. Brimstone. Eternally seeking to soothe its needs.

Power flooded out of his fingers at his mental command, sending him skidding backwards a few inches in the air. The ethereal light swirled through the poisonous fumes and slammed in the back of the dead teacher. A shriek of pain and rage curled through the school, shattered the windows of the classroom, and plunged the classroom into shadows lit only by the soft light of the morning sky. Twisting in the air, the blank eyes of the teacher stared in his direction, the spirit's fury sparking into a burning fire that sent wisps of smoke rising from the body's skin. "Who are you?" it screamed, the power of its voice making him back away even more.

Still, he could not respond, could not breathe, could not talk. He twisted his face into snarl and let more paranormal energy whirl into existence around his fingers. Light sparkled eerily against the colorful posters around him, but he did not drag his eyes away from the corpse hanging in the air in front of him. _Fight me_, he dared with his body language, crouching a little and letting his eyes glow with power. _Attack, if you can._

With a horrifying crack of bones and sizzle of flesh, the spirit flung itself and its possessed body through the air. Fires blazed into existence in the teacher's clothing and hair, clouds of fumes billowing up to the ceiling. It stretched out its hands, aiming to grab his neck, but he moved to the side at the last moment and the teacher's burning corpse flew through the doorway. The spirit let go before the body smashed into the other wall with a crunch of dead flesh, coalescing its own form in the hallway and twisting around, blazing eyes burning in an otherwise blank face.

"My beautiful classroom," it wailed hauntingly. "Why have you done this to me?"

He shook his head again in response to her question, settling himself back into a protective stance just before the spirit launched its transparent form at him, golden swirls of sulfurous poison appearing in its wake. "No!" it shrieked, fingernails curving into claws, hands raised to swipe at his face.

Suddenly the fire sprinklers went off, activated by the heat from the burning teacher's body and the fury of the demonic spirit. Its scream grew in volume and it hesitated when it felt the painful sting of the water falling through its intangible form. Writhing in agony and rage, it twisted in midair and leapt towards him; insanity blurring what little was visible of the spirit's features.

He slipped forwards and under its wild swipe, energy flashing into existence around his fingers as he reached one hand upwards to grab the spirit's neck. Hellfire burned his hand, his own supernatural power stoking the fire and scorching the demonic figure, agonized screeches echoing through the air as the spirit fought to hold off the pain of the fire and the water.

To no success. With one final shriek of rage that blasted throughout the entire town and set dogs to howling fifteen miles away, the spirit exploded in a wave of golden sparks.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and studied his palm, carefully touching the burned skin of his palm. It should've hurt like nothing else, but he couldn't really feel anything at the moment. He glanced around the lifeless hallway, blinking against the artificial rain that was stinging his eyes, and sat down on the floor. Blood from the mangled corpse of the dead teacher pooled on the tiles near his feet and the eternal cries of the hundreds of dead children whispered in his ears.

Amidst the dead he could no longer protect, he cradled his hand against his chest and stared blankly towards the doors at the end of the hallway. The poison was already dissipating – soon emergency crews would be rushing through the halls, tears being shed when they began to comprehend the incredible loss of innocent life.

Normally he'd be up and running, unwilling for the normal public to find him. But he couldn't get himself to move. His brain had shut off, his eyes fixing on the two pinpoints of light shining through the windows. Except for the restless spirits of the dead children, he was alone.

"Someone help me," he whispered into the lifeless air, taking his first shaky breath of the cleaner air, feeling the cold burn in his throat. "I… can't…"

Falling silent, he closed his eyes and let his unconscious mind take over, preventing him from insanity. Blackness surrounded him and emptiness swirled inside of him for an impossible eternity. He stopped thinking, poised on the brink of tumbling into something he wouldn't be able get out of on his own, and waited for someone to find him. And find him soon.

A soft hand on his shoulder made his eyes flicker open, the startled and horrified face of his mother standing over him. For a long moment, he just stared at her.

Then he tipped over the edge and, suddenly sobbing out of control, threw himself into her arms.

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Uploaded February 10, 2008  
Wasn't sure if I was going to upload it, but I got rid of most of the 'M' rated parts so I figure it's okay.  
Hope you enjoyed it.


	77. Failure

**Failure**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Between one breath and the next he's here. There's no flash, no sparkle, no swirl of melodramatic mist. He simply transitions from not-here to _here._ Turned slightly sideways, his eyes fixing on mine, a blank expression on his vaguely-shimming skin, his feet a few inches from actually touching the ground. 

I freeze, my mind stopping its senseless chatter and focusing on the sudden appearance of the ghost a few feet in front of me. I know my mouth has fallen slightly open, a wordless exclamation dying on my tongue as I stare at him. It's almost impossible; he shouldn't be here. I can't quite wrap my mind around it.

He's _never_ here. Like the phantom he is, he vanishes as soon as anyone approaches. I know Jack has had a few encounters with the teenage ghost, but I'd never seen anything more than a few glimpses of him vanishing or a spectral image on small-town newsprint in faded black and white. Never anything this high-definition. This… real.

Oh my lord, he's really right in front of me; the ghost-boy of Amity Park. I can't move as I stare at him in stark surprise. I've hunted this phantasm for nearly two years and he's made it very clear he wants to stay away from me. Now, for some reason, he's… here. He's right here. Letting me see him.

I can't help but wonder why he's suddenly here even as my mind starts to take in as many details as it can. Sparkling green eyes that simmer with all the powerful life of the dead, impossibly white hair that glows with in the moonlight like a small star, wiry muscles that I know are unfeasibly strong, and…

And…

Is he breathing?

His chest is rising and falling gently as he breathes in the cool night air. Yes, he's breathing, but I can't figure that out. Ghosts don't breathe – why is he…

He's breathing. The phantom is breathing. Almost against my own wishes, I start to contemplate the mysterious ghost, questions sprouting in my mind. If he truly is breathing, I wonder if he's got a heartbeat as well. Maybe I could take a step forwards and reach out and touch –

My thoughts are ripped from my mind as he drops soundlessly a few inches and his feet settle on the ground. His whole body seems to become slightly more real as he waits, letting me study him. I've never seen a ghost do this before; hang around and stare at me like I'm a fish in a barrel. I've never seen one be as concrete and physically present as the ghost-boy is right now. I've never seen one breathe before.

I drag my eyes up to gaze into his emerald orbs, my brain circling around why the ghost is here and – for the first time – just _what_ this creature is that I've been hunting. Doubts ring up from the back of my mind. He is a ghost… right?

We stare at each other for the longest moment as my mind tries to wrestle with the thoughts the phantom has created inside of me. We stare… we wait. No, that's not right. _He's_ the one waiting. Not me.

He's waiting _for_ me. He's waiting for me to do something. But what?

I can't talk, I can't move; I'm too afraid to break this impossible spell that I've been put under. I just stare, and wait, and wonder. His chest moves as he breathes, his supernaturally charged eyes blink, and he studies me almost as closely as I am studying him. He waits.

Thoughts circle, crest, and dive through my head. Questions prowl like sharks, theories leap around like frogs, and, buried deep underneath, a warm glow of _understanding_ was fluttering. Somewhere, somehow, I knew that if I could put together all the pieces and clues and theories and questions, I would understand.

It hits me, right about then: this feels like a test. I blink, my eyes narrowing slightly as my mind jumps into overdrive, another chunk falling into place in my mind. This is a test; he wants me to figure something out. He wants me to understand something about him. Why would this phantom want that? Why would he care?

Frustration wells up in me as precious seconds slip past unchecked, my mind racing around in pointless circles. I hate failing, and for some reason I _know_ that this is a test I can't fail. I need to pass this. The ghost is holding out his hand, a gesture of friendship, a silent plea for help and understanding, an offer of truth rather than a veil of lies.

I watch in horrified fascination as disappointment dulls the energetic sparkle of the teenager's eyes. He expects me to pass his little test; he thinks I can understand; he hopes that I can help. But I can't. I don't understand.

His head drops, his eyes closing, his hair dangling in his face as he gives up. I've failed his test. I can see the regret in every line of his body as he slumps a tiny bit. To my own surprise, tears prickle at my eyes. Up until a few seconds ago I hunted the young phantom with all my heart, and now I am crying for him? Why?

Why do I cry for someone I don't care for?

A strange, bubbling, wonderfully impossible thought shivers down my spine. I care because he looks so much like my own son right then. The odd observation tickles the thoughts in my head, cascading around like tiny rainbows, throwing new questions into life. I can feel the solid warm glow of finally _understanding_ growing inside of me. I wait, nourishing the tingling feeling, waiting for it to explode into my mind like a blazing firework.

But the phantom vanishes. No sparkles, no flashes, no swirls of paranormal fog. He's just simply _gone_. The warmth in my mind dies back and it retreats away from my gasping fingers, denying me something I didn't know I needed but eagerly sought.

I _don't_ know. I can't understand.

I fail. And, for a reason I still don't understand, it hurts more than it should.

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Uploaded February 14, 2008  
Don't look at me; I don't know what it's about either.  
Thanks for reading it though!


	78. Ain't it a Glorious Day

_Lancer/Danny bonding drabble. Aww… Fluffy pointlessness. Took two hours to write and edit. _

_On a different note, I got all of 'Pits' edited/rewritten and re-uploaded, so I'm officially out of excuses to not post the next chapter. It'll be up when I get it edited. Very good potential for this evening, central time, if I get my homework and laundry done this morning. sigh I'm hoping to get all of 'Pits' done by summer (three months). Cross your fingers. I'll got 11 chapters left.

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**Ain't it a Glorious Day**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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Today was the _perfect_ day. 

It was one of those days when it wasn't too hot and it wasn't too cold, it wasn't too muggy and it wasn't too dry. The sun was shinning – but not too brightly – and the clouds were those huge, white, puffy things that were so easily mistaken for giant, floating animals. It was one of those days when everything was gloriously, wondrously _alive_. The colors seemed brighter, the smells were sharper, the sounds were clearer, and everything was moving and doing and being.

And, just to add a bit of chocolate-fudge icing and sprinkles to the decadent cake that today already was, (one) he was not grounded, (two) he had no ghosts to hunt down, (three) it was a Saturday, and (four) had the day all to himself. Sam was trapped at a party with her parentals and Tucker was gone at a family thing in Nebraska. Yeah, he had homework to do, but he had all weekend to do that.

With such a perfect day hanging over his head, Danny had everything _but_ plans on how he was going to spend the day. The only thing he knew was that he was going to waste it. He was going to do absolutely nothing. The only question this morning had been _how_. Originally, the computer and a newly discovered level in _Doomed_ had been his dreamy goal. But then he'd actually woken up, taken a look outside, had seen that today was one of those one-in-a-thousand days… and not even a teenage boy can let one of those days slip by unnoticed. So, with a smile at his parents (their startled looks at seeing him up and moving so early on a Saturday just adding to the perfection that was today), he snatched an apple out of the fridge for an on-the-run breakfast and headed out the door towards the park.

Whistling under his breath as he jogged into the slow sunrise and munched on his crisp breakfast, he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. Today was just a smiling day; a day when nobody could be angry or sad. His blue eyes flickered around him as he moved, usually taking in the sights and smells of early-morning joggers and lawn mowers and flower-planters. Right now, though, his smile grew a little when he noticed he was next to a particularly deserted row of houses. Tossing his apple core into a nearby garbage, he paused on the street, studying his destination despite the glow of the sun in his eyes – still a dozen blocks away.

Quietly, Danny knelt down and rested, perfectly balanced, on his toes. His hands were loose as he took a deep breath, the ever-present smile lurking on his features. Then he disappeared… in more than one sense. With a flick of his mind, he had twisted himself out of the visible spectrum and, in a powerful push of his legs, he had thrown himself forwards on the street. Sprinting down the street, he pushed himself faster and faster, letting his human constraints fall away.

For today, he wasn't going to be a human. For today, he wasn't going to be a ghost. For today, he was just going to be _him_. Someone that nobody knew existed – except for himself.

His black hair streamed behind him as he flashed up the street, his breath still light and steady as he raced by faster than any normal human in the world could have run. Had there been cars in the street, he would have been passing them by. A dozen blocks, a dozen breaths, less than a minute… and he skidded to a stop, grinning as he glanced backwards and letting himself fall back into visibility.

With a little laugh, Danny checked to make sure his phone was still in his pocket and glanced around him to make sure the 'normal' humans were all out of sight. He took the briefest of seconds to stretch his arms over his head and down to his toes to get ready for his wild run through the park. His slightly giddy grin still on his face, he picked his direction.

And ran.

No, it couldn't really be classified as running. For him, obstacles were a joke since he could run right through them. Gravity hadn't held sway on his body – unless he wanted it to, and even then it was just an approximation – since the accident nearly two years ago. Normal human endurance and limits were long gone, mysteriously vanished a little over a year ago just before his cryokinetic powers had developed. His reactions were better, his mind swifter, his sense sharper. Danny was far from human… thus, he wasn't really running.

Bounding, leaping, flitting between trees, his feet resting on the hard surfaces for less time than it took to blink, he was moving like a wraith through the woods. Parts and pieces of his body drifted intangible when branches and fallen trees appeared in his way. Shoes used tree branches just as often as the ground to push himself forwards. Faster than any animal could have moved through the forest, he seemed to be racing the sunlight itself towards his destination.

Much too soon, before he really wanted it to, the fence that marked the end of Amity Park came into view. The park was miles across, yet he had been running for only a few minutes. Skidding to a stop, his breath a little quicker than normal, he rested his arms on the top of the chain-link fence and stared off into the nothing beyond. On the other side of the fence lay the shadowed trees of Tobslin's Wood: a vast expanse of supposedly haunted forest and criss-crossing rivers that lay between Amity Park and Lake Eerie.

He glanced behind him, knowing he should stay in the park. His parents would fillet him _alive_ if they found out he was leaving Amity Park. But his eyes drifted over the totally silent trees, then up to the calmly drifting animals in the sky, and decided that today was too good to waste. If they caught him and grounded him… well, the weather-guy said it was supposed to rain tomorrow anyways.

It took less thought to walk through the fence than it would have to jump over the fence. Then he was gone, again, racing the shadows through the trees (more literally than not), and laughing delightedly at how wonderfully _free_ everything was today. Nobody to have to pretend to be human around.

It was the perfect day.

* * *

William Lancer had more in common with his troublesome student than he had ever dreamed possible. For starters, both were bound and determined to waste the day. Both were in Tobslin's Wood (albeit for different reasons) on this perfect Saturday morning. And, despite the thousands of acres and the lightning-bolt-out-of-the-blue chance, both were on a direct collision path with the other.

Of course Lancer wasn't moving nearly as fast as his student when it happened. Actually, Lancer had been standing still. Even more specifically, he had been _sitting_ still. Moving and fishing were mutually exclusive verbs in his head; one did not move if one intended to actually catch a fish. Moving, however, is not something that can be helped when one has been taken by surprise and virtually tackled by a student who was running, hell-bent, through the woods. With a startled cry, both Lancer and Danny tumbled off the edge of the creek and landed in the water.

"Oh geez!" Danny gasped as he found the surface and pushed himself to his feet. Tossing his head to get his dripping hair out of his eyes, he glanced around to make sure his teacher was alright. "Mr. Lancer! Are you okay?"

Lancer stumbled to his feet and fished his pole out of the water with a sigh. "I'm fine, Mr. Fenton."

"I'm so sorry," Danny garbled, "I was just running and I wasn't paying attention and I didn't think that there would be anyone out here and…"

"It's okay, Danny," Lancer interrupted with a slight smile. "No harm done. We'll just both have to be wet for a bit."

The boy blinked and nodded with a slightly chagrinned flush on his cheeks.

Lancer pulled himself out the water and, after reeling in his lure and carefully setting his rod on the ground, yanked off his soaked shoes and socks. After a moment, Danny joined him. "Fishing? I didn't know you fished," Danny said as he tried to wring some water out of his clothes.

"Running?" Lancer replied with a sardonic grin, "I didn't know you ran." Then he suddenly hesitated. "Did you run all the way here?"

Not really paying attention, Danny nodded. "I figured it was a good day to be out doing something."

"We're ten miles from Amity Park, Danny."

Danny hesitated, but then shrugged. "I've been running for awhile. I'm getting good at it." In his mind, Danny was trying to figure out how fast he'd been going with that bit of information. Ten miles, fourteen minutes… that was… too much math to do on a Saturday, so he changed the subject. "What are you fishing for?"

Lancer smiled a little and let himself be led in a different direction while making a mental note to con Danny into trying out for the track team. With their losing streak, they could use someone who could run ten miles and still be in _any_ sort of condition to keep running. Maybe Danny could manage to bring that Samantha with him. "Sunfish."

"Sunfish?" Danny muttered, glancing down into the water, "What do they do?"

"Do?" The teacher was confused by the question. "They're fish. They swim. They eat bugs. They make more fish. They get caught."

A light seemed to bloom in the student's eyes. "Normal fish. You're just… _fishing_."

"Precisely." Lancer nodded, picking up his fishing line and checking the lure, wondering to himself what _else_ in the world you could go fishing for. Glancing surreptitiously at his student, he noted that Danny was watching his movement quite carefully as he pulled a new worm out of his bucket and carefully threaded it onto the small hook. As soon as he pulled his arm back to cast it out into the water, Danny seemed to lose interest. But he didn't get up to leave.

Silence passed between them on this perfect day, fluffy animals floating lazily by overhead. If either would have voiced their thoughts, they might have been surprised to note that both saw the same creatures in the bright, morning sky. It was a way to pass a lazy Saturday.

Or at least it was until Lancer figured out why Danny had been so confused earlier about the sunfish. Coming from a family like his, he wondered if his student had ever gone fishing for something that wasn't dead or trying to destroy him. It was common knowledge that both the elder Fentons were more than a little obsessed with their paranormal studies. Lancer's eyes drifted from the boy who was studying the reflections of the clouds in the clear creak to the carefully maintained tackle box. "Do you want to try?"

Danny's eyes fixed on him. "Try what?"

"Fishing. Normal fishing." Lancer reached over and pulled out the pieces of his spare rod. "I've got another rod you could use and I've got plenty of worms."

For a second, Danny just watched him. Then he nodded and his smile grew a little. "That'd be fun. Thanks, Mr. Lancer."

Lancer quickly twisted the pole together and snapped on a pre-wound reel, threading the fine line through the eyelets and easily tying on a spare lure. "Can you put on your own worm? And, since we're fishing and there are _rules_ about fishing," he hesitated and arched an authoritarian eyebrow, "my name's Will. Not Mr. Lancer."

Danny just rolled his eyes and accepted the rod.

And so the rest of the lazy morning passed, the two of them chatting and anything and everything. Well, _almost _anything. Danny managed to not mention anything ghost-related and Lancer held off mentioning the homework assignment he was positive Danny hadn't done yet (and he was right). When Lancer had to pick up to head home, seven flopping fish on his string, he offered his student a ride back to town.

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I'm going to run a bit more. It's too nice of a day."

"Have fun," Lancer said as Danny rolled to his feet, pulled on his mostly-dry shoes, and vanished off into the trees. By the time he reached his truck, Danny was almost two miles away, his feet brushing the treetops and racing the clouds.

Turning on the truck, an old song was playing on the radio. "Ain't it a glorious day…"

* * *

Uploaded March 2, 2008  
Ain't it a glorious day, bright as a morning in May, and it feels like I could fly...  
Thanks for reading!


	79. Timely Returns: 5:27pm

_YAY! I'm an official beta reader: www. fanfiction. net/ beta/ 1145040/ cordria_

_Congrats to you! Star Shots has reached 75 THOUSAND hits!! _

_AU... kind of based off 'Left Right Left Right' (Star Shot 62) where Danny appears in the Ghost Zone after the accident rather than in the human world like in cannon. He becomes a ghost with human powers, rather than a human with ghost powers. Originally posted on DA, possibly to be continued. Review if you'd like me to. _

_

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_

**Timely Returns - 5:27pm**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand resting gently on the light switch that would plunge the basement into ominous shadows. The darkness down in the deepest recesses of his home used to be welcoming and cool - now they were lost and forlorn, wrapped up in tear-filled questions and unanswered prayers. His eyes scanned the dusty room one last time before he flicked off the lights to trudge up the creaking stairs. 

It was still there, in his memory: the silvery walls, the happy laughter of discovery, the wild joy of inventing something that really _worked_. But the scenes in his mind were dimmed with time and sorrow and confusion. The colorful pictures of his memory were as dusty and covered with cobwebs as the basement itself. The only things left from his old dreams were steel-plated walls and a heavily barred hole in the wall.

"Two years," Jack whispered, the door snicking quietly shut behind him as he glanced around the deserted kitchen. It wouldn't do any good for Mads to had found out he had been down to the basement. She was just beginning to get over the accident that had stolen their son away; he wasn't going to do a thing to throw her back into the despair that had swallowed her for so long. "Two years today."

"Dad?" He turned around, trying to muster a smile at the sight of his beautiful daughter. Brushing a few strands of red hair out of her face, she glanced at his dusty shoes and then at the basement door. There was a blank look on her face for a moment as she digested the fact that he'd been downstairs, but then she returned his small smile. "I'm going out with Sam and Tucker for a bit. You know, to remember. I'll be back in an hour or so?"

"Take your time, princess," he answered. "How's Mads doing?"

She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the stairs. "It's hard. But she'll live."

He nodded, blinking and letting a real smile cross his face. It was small, but it was real. "Be home for supper at seven."

"Definitely." She waited for a few seconds more, seeing if he'd say something more, but then she grabbed her backpack and vanished.

He sighed. She'd grown a lot closer to Danny's old friends since the accident two years ago. There'd be some sort of memorial in the planning stages for days, if not for months before this. From what he'd heard, a lot of the students from school would be meeting at the Nasty Burger. What a fitting salute: Danny had spent every last cent of the money he earned at that restaurant.

Collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs, he crossed his arms and rested them on the table, his chin lying on top his arms. There really was nothing more depressing than to be alone on the anniversary of your child's death. Even more so when there was no physical proof that Danny was really dead. No body had ever been recovered. All there had been was an empty coffin to try to fill an empty void in a family's heart left by a boy that had been stolen away from life at the old age of fourteen.

Depressing.

Eyes closing, Jack tried to wrench his mind out of the spiral that he was falling into. He'd always been of the opinion that life was a happy occasion and that memories were to be celebrated. It was just so hard to do in reality. Dragging up memories of his son led inevitably to memories of him being _gone_.

Suddenly he brought his head up, brow furrowing as he stared at the door leading to the basement. He'd thought he'd heard a sound. Something small - maybe classified as a yelp, maybe as a moan.

_Bang_. There was no mistaking that one; the sharp sound of something hard and solid hitting something equally hard and metal.

He slipped out of his seat. His hand was on the knob, turning, before he hesitated. There were no other entrances to the basement… not ones a person could use. There was just that ghost portal. The insidious device that had killed his only son and stolen his family's happiness for so long.

"A ghost?" But no, that couldn't be. He'd never even _seen_ a ghost, not really. And since they'd locked and shut the only portal into the ghost world, he'd never been able to look in and see one.

His eyes flickered towards the clock on the stove as he carefully pulled open the door. 5:27pm. According to myth, not a popular time for ghosts to be out and about; they tended towards sunsets and dark nights. It probably wasn't a ghost.

When the door was open far enough, he glanced down the steep steps, his eyes straining in the dark shadows. An uneasy green glow seemed to infuse the room, shifting and glowing like a miniature fire. Shapes and shadows moved within its depths. Transparent black figures flitted through the light cascading onto the stairwell.

"It's an invasion," he breathed, eyes wide and unable to move. Mentally adding up the shapes he had seen, he figured there had to be nearly two dozen things – ghosts, _really_ ghosts – in the basement. The noise he had heard earlier was no doubt the sound of the door being torn off the ghost portal. "No..."

Red eyes appeared in the shadows, staring up at him before he could close the door and yell for his wife. A finger pointed, shapes froze and vanished. Then, just as suddenly as they disappeared, the dark figures misted into view on all sides of him, surrounding him, moving forwards as one, pressing in on his personal space, pushing him towards the stairs, down the stairs, and into the paranormal light given off by the ghost world. His mouth opened to yell a warning to Maddie, hoping she'd run, but nothing came out of his throat.

There it was, on the wall, gleaming at him through the darkness of the basement: the object of his son's demise, the end of his world. Despite his current situation, his heart gave a jolt and tears sprung to his eyes. He could still remember the scream he'd heard that had two years ago, racing downstairs to find the portal active and Danny's friends staring in horrified disbelief at the swirling mass of energy.

"Hhhhuuuumaaaann..." the figures breathed, their voices coming from everywhere at once, echoing and screaming against his nerves as they spoke in perfect unison. "Weeee hhhaaave coommmmme ffffooorrr yooooouuu..." Wind whispered in their voices and cold fingers crept down his spine.

"What?" he managed to get out, blinking fiercely and scanning the barren basement for something he could use to fight these spirits. Unfortunately, neither he nor Maddie had been very productive with their ghost weapons since the accident. There was nothing there.

"Pllllaaaassssssssmiiiuusssssss..." they hissed together, turning their bloody eyes towards the open ghost portal as another figure stepped through the haze and into the human world. "Aaaa baaarrrrgaaaainnn?"

The new ghost, black hair swept back and gleaming eyes sweeping the basement, nodded. "A bargain. Leave," the vampiric ghost sneered.

A deep snarl cascaded around the room as Jack shrunk back away from his kidnappers and into a corner. "Doooo nnnooot oooveerrrrsssteeep yoooouuurrrrr booounnnndsssss, haaaaalffffflliiiingggg..."

The vampire ghost's eyes narrowed for a moment as flares of reddish energy swirled around its form. Then it nodded. "Fine. Whatever. Just go."

Still standing in the corner, Jack watched in horrified amazement as the dark figures melted from view. "So it is true," he breathed, his eyes fixing on the vampire ghost, "ghosts can turn invisible."

"Yes, you oaf," it answered with a scowl, "ghosts turn invisible. It's something we do."

Jack was silent for a moment, licking his lips as he fought to find something to say, struggled to not look over at the dangerously swirling ghost portal. He hadn't thought he'd ever have to look at that thing, active, ever again. They had boarded it up when they found they couldn't shut it off. The memory of what that thing had done hurt deep down, cutting through the fear the ghost was sparkling in his mind. "What do you want?" he finally asked, his voice rasping.

"Revenge, mostly." It held up a hand, energy forming around its fist and an evil glimmer in its hard gaze. Then it paused. "But, see, I have to wait. This just isn't worth it without all the pawns in place. I want to see the look on your face."

"Look?" he rasped.

"Yes," it began, but the energy in the ghost portal suddenly grew rapid and chaotic, a new form appearing through the darkness. The grin on the vampire's face was chilling. "Here. I want to see the look of absolute devastation when you find out. It took me two _years_ to track him down. You'd better make the wait worth it."

His heart froze as he stared at the steadying form. At first it could have been one figure, but now it was clearly two: one carrying another slung over its shoulder. "Him?" His heart sank and he contemplated the meanings behind that.

"Perfect," the vampire hissed. Jack flicked his gaze towards the ghost long enough to see the happy expression on its face before he settled back on the steadily growing figures. "I want to see the utter despair as you realize you cut off his only mode of escape by building this door. I want to you to truly _understand_ what has happened these past two years to someone you claim to love."

He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted so badly to see this – to see _him_ – but he wanted so badly to never see what this newest figure was carrying towards him. He didn't want to understand just what this vampire ghost was telling him. He knew... but he didn't want to _know_. "No..."

"Yes..." it hissed. "You hurt everything you love. You destroy everything you touch. You don't deserve the love of your children and your beautiful wife. That should be _mine_."

"No!" Jack collapsed to his knees as the form solidified. Over the silvery shoulder on some animatronic ghost, was the unconscious form of a boy in ragged clothes. Uncut black hair dangled in a bruised face. Blood trickled out of multiple cuts and slices on his arms. The silver ghost dropped his load onto the ground and the boy groaned.

"No! Danny!" He was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, reaching towards his son, moving towards him. His _alive_ son. Two unknowing steps and a foot crashed into his stomach. Tripping and rolling on the ground, the vampire ghost pressed its boot against his neck and grinned. "See? This is even better than I thought. I get to kill you at your lowest point. You'll be out of the way and I'll be the savior of the day." It laughed mockingly.

He closed his eyes, tears leaking out over his cheeks, unable to think of how to fix this. Danny was alive. His son was alive. But they would both be dead so quickly...

"Jack?"

His eyes flicked open to find his wife, his beautiful Maddie, standing on the steps with her wide, red-rimmed eyes taking in the sight of the two ghosts. She blinked a few times, her head twisting as she studied the glowing forms, no surprise on her face.

"Mads, ghost..." Jack croaked, but he figured it was unnecessary. His wife was always prepared.

She moved in almost slow motion, her hand coming out from behind her back, her other coming up to steady the dusty plasma-based weapon she'd brought with her. "Stay away from my husband, ghosts."

The vampire ghost snarled, its boot pressing down harder on Jack's neck. His hands came up, pressing against the foot, his breath gurgling in his throat. Suddenly a blast of startling green light swept through the room, the vampire ghost giving a cry of surprised pain and backing away.

Jack rolled to his feet, his eyes taking in the stirring form of his child. "Danny," he whispered, all thoughts of his own safety vanishing from his mind as he scrambled along the ground towards his son. Scooping up the too-light form as more blasts of brilliant emerald energy blazed around him, he glanced over his shoulder. Maddie was descending the steps, her small plasma weapon forcing both ghosts towards the swirling portal.

"I will not have my plans ruined!" the vampire ghost snapped angrily, its eyes blazing. Energy flooded around the ghost even as it lost more ground due to the steady stream of fire laid down by Maddie's weapon. It raised one hand, power glittering around its fingers, energy fizzling in the air.

Jack's eyes grew wide as he felt all his hairs stand on end, the uncanny feeling of a huge static charge building in the air. The ghost was going to fire. At _him_.

He turned his back on the ghost, holding his son's form close to him. He would protect his child to his dying breath, if he needed to. He would not lose him again.

"Dad?" came a soft voice and Jack whipped his eyes open, staring in amazement into two blue eyes he thought he'd never see again. For a moment of eternity, everything froze as the world retied itself around them. Everything was as it should be; Danny was back in his arms.

"_DAD_!" Danny's eyes widened, one hand coming up as the vampire ghost loosed its powerful blast.

Jack closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

That never came.

He jerked his head around, amazement writing itself into his mind as he watched a solid shield of emerald plasma dissipate the remnants of the vampire's attack. Then his eyes focused on the ghost portal, watching with startled satisfaction as the vampire ghost was forced through the edge and back into the ghost world. Carefully setting his son on the ground, he raced forwards to manhandle the heavy door back into place.

All was quiet.

He leaned against the door, feeling the ghosts hammering futilely against it, watching as Maddie stared at the slight sixteen-year-old sitting on the ground. "Danny?" he heard her whisper.

She took a few steps forward, but the boy scuttled backwards. A few more steps, and Danny's back was against the wall, his eyes wide. "Mom..." he breathed, barely loud enough to be heard even in the heavy silence of the lab.

"Danny!" Jack watched as she practically flew through the air, pulling her son into a huge hug.

But the boy pulled out of her grasp, scrabbling a few feet away and shaking his head. "Stay away from me," he cried.

"Why?" Jack left his vigil over the portal for a moment, walking towards his son, amazed at the tears that were flowing down the boy's face.

"Just... stay away..." He pushed himself back into a corner.

"_Why_?" she pressed, kneeling before him and putting a soft hand on her child's shoulder.

"I'm a monster," Danny breathed. And he changed.

* * *

Uploaded March 3, 2008  
Fun, evil, angst.  
Thanks for reading!


	80. Attack of the Sues

_Sorry, random drabble due to too much excitement, sugar, and energy. It doesn't make sense, there's really no plot, and the characters are OOC. :D _

* * *

**Attack of the Sues  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria 

* * *

Danny stuck his spork into the food sitting on his tray, still trying to determine whether the food was likely to get up and attack him if he took a bite. Murderous meals were usually only a concern at home with his parents' ecto-amplified kitchen appliances, but after a recent rash of rumors about Technus and the Lunch Lady going on some dates, he wasn't going to take any chances anywhere. And this green mess of road kill would have definitely been on his 'beware' list anyway.

He turned a little, grinning over at his best friend. She was munching away on her salad, silent for the first time in awhile. "Did you hear about the new students?" Danny asked, poking her in the shoulder.

She scowled and stabbed at his finger with her spork. "Don't poke me, and yes. What's-her-name was in one of my classes earlier and I had to learn all about her and her 'fantabulous' twin brother."

"I haven't seen either one yet. Wonder if they'll be in one of my classes."

Picking up a carrot and taking a bit, she asked, "Why do you care, anyways? We get new students all the time."

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just wondering. Can't a guy make conversation?"

"No." She smiled quickly to show she was joking, then glanced down at his tray with a disgusted look on her face. "Are you _seriously_ going to eat that?"

Looking down at the mush he was still unceremoniously stirring with his spork, he arched an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I eat it? It's a puréed mixture of moldy potato flakes, frozen mushy green beans, and a protein mixture that the producer couldn't even sell to the pig farms. It's perfectly edible."

"Edible? I think it's eating your spork."

Danny opened his mouth to retort when a tray plopped down on the table. Glancing up and expecting to see Tucker, Danny froze when he noticed that it was someone new. Someone _new_ new.

She had black hair that trailed down over her shoulders in shimmering waves, large blue eyes that sparkled, and skin that seemed to have a healthy glowing radiance even in the harsh florescent lights. She was, in every term of the word, _beautiful_. "Hi," she murmured, her voice low, her eyelids fluttering as she swiveled her perfect body into the chair across from him. "You must be Danny, I've heard so much about you." A smile flashed on her face, red lips highlighting white teeth. "I'm Mary. Mary Sue."

Danny flushed as he tore his eyes away from her to figure out what she had just said. When she held out her hand, he instinctively moved his hand to grab hers… but he froze just before he made contact. Drawing his hand back, he tipped his head to the side. "I think I've read this story," he muttered to himself, his eyes widening as his breath fogged in the air as he spoke. His ghost sense was going off… there was a ghost at the table. "Is this the one where I fall head-over-heels in love with an evil ghost?" He studied her for a moment, trying to ignore the insanely cute pout she had on for refusing to shake her hand. "Sam?"

No answer. He turned a bit. "Sam?" She seemed to be frozen, her eyes fixed across the table as a second new-comer dropped into place. "Sam!"

"Hi, Gary!" Mary cheered. "Danny, this is my brother Gary. Gary Sue. He's my twin." She sent him a dazzling smile.

Gary was a lot like his sister. Black, spiked hair with huge blue eyes and skin that was too healthy for being in school lighting. His black and red shirt accented finely toned muscles as he dropped into the seat next to Mary. He smiled – a perfect smile – and held out his hand. "Hi Danny, Mary's been talking non-stop about you ever since we moved here. Glad you meet you finally."

Refusing to shake Gary's hand either, Danny's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I _know_ I've read this story somewhere," he said darkly, his ghost sense going off even harder than before, "which one of you is the evil halfa bent on world domination?"

The twins blinked at each other. "What's a halfa?" they chorused.

"Who are you working for?" Danny continued, pushing himself to his feet and leaning over the table to stare them straight into their perfect eyes.

"Um…" Gary shot a glance at his sister, raising an eyebrow. "Are you okay, man?"

"What evil, diabolical plans do you have to steal this story from its _proper_ main character, namely _me_?" Danny thumped the table, his voice level rising. "I've heard this story a million times. You sneak in, befriend me, and then _rip_ the plot away from me to the despair of everyone who gave the story half a chance! Nobody wants to hear about your life!"

Both of the twins had their mouths hanging open, staring at him in confused disbelief. "What?" Sue said.

"Whatever plans you may have laid so far," Danny grabbed his tray, "won't work on me. Consider yourselves my newest set of arch nemeses." He stormed a few feet away before turning back, trying to ignore the shivers that were slipping down his back and his still-fogging breath. "You coming Sam?"

Sam was leaning forwards, resting her chin on her wrist. "Hi," she said softly, her eyes locked on Gary, "I'm Samantha."

"_Sam!"_

"Hello," Gary answered her, ignoring the fuming halfa a few feet away. " Gary. Nice to meet you Samantha." Her name rolled off his tongue in a particularly perfect manner.

"Sam?" Danny's voice was a little weaker this time as he realized she wasn't making any move to get up.

"Who is _that?_" Tucker whispered, suddenly sliding up right behind him. The techno-geek's eyes were gleaming as he gazed at the perfection sitting at their table. "And why is she all alone?"

"She's the epitome of evil," Danny snarled under his breath.

"Too bad she's so cute," Tucker chuckled, pushing past his friend and dropping into Danny's recently vacated seat. The boy pushed his glasses up on his nose and held out a hand to Mary. "Tucker Foley. T.F. as is Too Fine."

To Danny's disgust, Mary giggled and shook his friend's hand. "Mary Sue. Nice to meet you Tucker."

"_Sam. Tucker,"_ Danny hissed. "Evil. Stay away from them."

Sam turned her head to gaze at him with an arched eyebrow. "Settle down, Danny. They're just students."

"Yeah, dude," Tucker added, sending Mary a dazzling smile, "chill. Perhaps the lady needs some help doing her homework?"

"AH!" Danny screamed and threw his tray to the ground, anger forming an almost palpable cloud around him. "You're doing it _already!_ I won't let you stupid ghosts mess with my friends!" He flung himself onto the table, kicking Sam's salad out of the way and reaching forwards to get a good grip on Mary's shirt.

"Hey!" Mary gasped, backpedaling and tipping her own tray onto the ground. "Get off of me!"

A chorus of shouts echoed through the cafeteria as Danny struggled to get to his knees and attack the new girl. "Leave my friends alone, you filthy evil original character!"

"_Daniel Fenton!"_ The bellowed name froze everyone in the cafeteria except for the intended recipient of the vice principal's wrath. Danny managed to get to his knees on the tabletop and raced after the escaping Mary. 

He got about two steps before the large man clamped a hand onto his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. "Daniel Fenton, what in the world do you think you're _doing?_"

Danny growled and his body shook as he studied the wide-eyed Mary, huddled against Paulina and Star. "Evil," he said angrily, "you managed to sneak higher up the chain of command than I thought." As Mr. Lancer started to drag him away, Danny called back, "You won't win! _I'll be back! _This is _my _story!_"_

Mary, her perfect face pale as she clasped her hands over her heart, watched in horror as Danny was dragged away and out of the story for good. With shaking legs, she walked back over to the table and settled down. Tucker reached out a comforting hand and patted her wrist. "It'll be alright, Mary. He's just being weird. He'll get over it."

"I'm sure she will," she demurred, her perfectly blue eyes glistening as she gazed at the table.

Gary nodded. "Yes," he agreed, then turned back to Sam, who was still staring at the doors where Danny had disappeared. "Sam," he coaxed, smiling his perfect smile when she glanced at him, "where were we?"

Down on the floor, Danny's green mass of a lunch glowed a little brighter as it finally finished eating the forgotten spork. Dragging its mushy mass off the tray, it oozed towards the other lunches that had found their way to the floor.

The haunted lunch – which had been the thing setting of Danny's ghost sense in truth – decided it needed to get a little bigger before it tried to take over the world. A perfectly clean, perfectly tied, girl's running shoe came into view and it licked its slimy lips before hungrily heading in that direction.

"It's my story now," it burbled.

* * *

Uploaded March 17, 2008  
I will never be able to apologize enough for this one...  
Sorry you read it.� :)


	81. Murder He Wrote

_My formal apology for the last one. :)_

_Warning: graphic violence. Don't read this if you don't like killing... or if you like GhostWriter. KaliPhantom, this is your warning. Don't bug me if you read it. _

* * *

**'Murder', He Wrote**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

It was curiosity that made him to it. Well, it wasn't so much pure curiosity – there _was_ a point to what he was doing. It was hard to write a story about something you'd never experienced. So it could be said that the curiosity of how the action would truly feel drove him to it. 

Crouched in the darkened alley of some nameless city as far away from AmityPark as he dared to travel, GhostWriter shivered a little inside the young man he was possessing. It had taken so long to find just the right person to overshadow to complete his quest: black hair, green eyes, goatee, about five foot eight, smart rather than brawny. The human version of himself, he figured, and had even taken the time to dress the human in clothes that somewhat matched his own preferred outfit. It would make the whole thing more realistic. 

GhostWriter figured the three weeks he'd spent searching for the perfect human was well worth the effort as he scanned the few people that were still wandering past. Now if only all the random people would just _go home_. It was a Friday night, well past the two in the morning cut off time for the local bars, and the street was still too busy. He needed to find someone and have that someone be alone.

His eyes snagged on one drunken individual careening down the street. Messy gray hair and dingy, layered clothing hinted that this was a shelter man rather an a human with a family to head home to. Noiselessly, GhostWriter pushed to his feet and set off after the older human. Originally, the plan had been to do it here, but it was just too busy. His activity for the night was best done in seclusion. He would just have to tail his target until he reached a more suitable locale.

When the old man staggered across the street a mere two blocks later, apparently heading for a poorly advertised shelter, GhostWriter felt a sharp thrill sweep through him. He couldn't let the man get into the shelter, that wouldn't do. Picking up his pace, Ghost Writer caught up to the slowly moving human a few dozen feet from the shadowed entrance to the shelter. "Shelter's full tonight, old man," he soothed.

The human blinked red-rimmed eyes at him. "Wha?"

"Shelter's full," GhostWriter repeated. "But you can sleep on my couch, if you want."

Alcohol-greased wheels slipped and caught in the old man's brain. "Wha?"

GhostWriter sighed, having obviously underestimated how much the human had drunk. "You're going to sleep on my couch tonight," he stated firmly and began to direct the old man down the street, past the relative safety of the shelter.

Letting himself be moved, the old man wobbled a little, one grimy hand coming up to pat GhostWriter on the cheek. "'S a goo' youn' man…"

Even though he had steeled himself for the clammy feel of the man's hand, he couldn't help the slight flinch when the dirt touched his cheek. It wasn't even his cheek – it was technically the cheek of the young man he was possessing – but still. "This way."

Together, they slipped through the soundless night, the drunken human lurching and mumbling senselessly, the overshadowed human keeping pace silently, studying his 'prize' with eyes that seemed to glow in the night. Neither knew where they were ultimately destined, and only one knew for sure what was going to happen when they got there.

After about twenty minutes of walking, GhostWriter becoming more and more concerned about the continued mobility of the old man with each teetering step, the ghost finally found what he had been looking for. A darkened alley, ripe with the scent of human waste and ruin, filled with the sounds of scurrying rodents and overly-large bugs. "Right through here," he stated to the old man, although he was pretty sure the human was past the point of comprehending speech. 

The old man blinked at the dreary alley, apparently trying to determine why he would want to go down it. "Wha?" he slurred.

"You're sleeping on my couch tonight," GhostWriter stated, for the forty-first time since they'd met, "and my apartment is through here." With a suppressed shudder, GhostWriter reached out and put his hand on the man's back, pushing forwards with a tiny bit of force.

Stumbling a little, the old man moved into the alley. "A'ight, f'ne. 'M movin'. Dun' push."

GhostWriter followed the drunken human into the stench-laden darkness, focusing on the human emotions that were flooding through the young man he was possessing. Terror, fear, horror… but all of it overlade with excitement and desire. His eyes glowing faintly in the near-total darkness, his fingers clenching a few times at his sides, GhostWriter felt a smile cross his face as a tiny chuckle escaped his lips

He wasn't expecting the laughter, but he cataloged it away as part of the experience. His whole body was shaking as the man reached the end of the dead-end alley and gazed blankly at the wall in front of him, seeming to be stumped as to what to do next.

_Now,_ GhostWriter's mind commanded as he took the final few steps forwards, his host's body pressing against the drunken human's back. Hands reached out and felt, drifted up the man's curved and weak shoulders, and located the old man's neck. Ten powerful fingers curled around the delicate organ and felt the gentle, warm pulse. 

GhostWriter froze, his body unwilling to move forwards. He could feel the man shuddering against him, the drunken mind finally working to figure out what was going to happen next. GhostWriter could smell the sharp alcohol, even over the rotting stench of the alley. For a few curious seconds, GhostWriter could feel the man's _life_ flitting under his hands and he wondered if he'd gone far enough. 

His glowing eyes studied the old man's dirty hair, trying to decide if he should stop. Humans were fragile creatures and there wasn't a second chance for them. This human would be giving up everything, forever, for the sake of his story. Even if he was just a no-account shelter man who didn't have anyone that would notice his disappearance… was it worth it?

Lost in his musings, the slippery alcoholic mind of the old man eventually caught up with the sequence of events and determined that fighting was the best option at this point. However, trying to throw a punch while drunk is never a very good idea. The man twisted out of GhostWriter's limp fingers, one arm swinging out in a very lucky punch that slammed into GhostWriter's nose, then promptly lost his balance and careened to the floor, hitting his head on a garbage pail on the way down.

For GhostWriter, the shock of getting punched in the nose, feeling an alien, warm liquid drain out of his nose, and tasting the strangely iron tang of blood in his mouth made his decision for him. Eyes burning with excitement and anger, GhostWriter followed the old man down to where he had fallen, straddled the human's chest, and wrapped his host's fingers around the drunken man's neck.

The old man struggled feebly, his movements hampered by too much to drink and the hard clunk his head had just taken. Old, wrinkled hands came up and the broken, chipped fingernails dug into the skin of the hands holding him down. GhostWriter flinched at the sharp, painful feeling, but tightened his grip. 

He could feel the warm blood pumping feebly under his fingers as his fingers dug into the old man's skin. With his enhanced night vision, he could see the man's eyes begin to bulge as his air supply was cut off. He could feel the man's body shake and writhe between his legs. 

It took forever, lots longer than GhostWriter had originally figured it would. But he knew the moment the old man was gone for good – the soft thump of life under his fingers stilled. For a few seconds, GhostWriter let his fingers relax and he continued to sit there, studying the wide-eyed and blank gaze of his victim, feeling the sharp, pleasant dives of his host's body as the raw excitement died away. 

Finally, GhostWriter pushed himself to his feet and studied the limp body below him. The old man's bowels had released at some point, adding to the stench of the alley. GhostWriter felt a tiny spark of pride. He'd done it; he knew what it felt like. Now he could write his story and it would be perfect. 

Leaving his host body where it was, GhostWriter drifted up into the sky, his supernatural mind already forgetting what he'd done and never bothering to contemplate what would happen to his overshadowed host when the young man woke up. The ghost's mind was already filled with ideas for his story. No, his _novel_. He'd be famous!

"Murder," he wrote, "was all to easy in the end, although it took longer thanI expected…"

* * *

Uploaded March 17, 2008  
Evil GhostWriter... nice.  
Thanks for reading!


	82. Zim's Thermos

_Officially giving up. If you want it continued, you'll need to offer to help and write it with me._

_DP/IZ crossover for InvaderJohnny. _

* * *

**Zim's Thermos**  
A Danny Phantom and Invader Zim FanFiction by Cordria 

* * *

"GIR, get over here!" Zim's voice filtered through the base.

The robot cart-wheeled into the base, dropped down in front of the TV, flipped on the power, and completely ignored the small alien calling its name. The screen filled with images of magical faeries and a small boy in a stupid pink hat.

"_GIR!_" Zim stalked into the room and glared down at the robot, trying very hard to keep his antennae from twitching with anger. "GIR, we have a mission to complete."

"Huh?"

"Yes. A mission. And, believe it or not, I started it without you. I've already caught the intruder!" Zim tapped his foot, waiting for a response.

"Aww… is it a bunny?" The robot's blue eyes stared at him.

Zim sighed. "No, GIR, it isn't a bunny. It was one of those _filthy _Earth-monkeys." He narrowed his red eyes and growled, "And he was after our _boxes_, GIR, the ones filled with all our _snacks_. The evil scum!" Zim fumed for a few moments. "Come, GIR, we need to interrogate our latest prisoner. I've put him in the time dilation field."

"Didn't that go boom?" GIR got to its feet and followed Zim. They took the elevator in the trash can down to the containment area.

Zim completely ignored the crazy robot. "What I want to know is how he got into our secret base. The parental units must be malfunctioning again. Perhaps that dirt-crawler _Dib_," he shuddered at the name, "helped him past our advanced security systems."

GIR hummed tunelessly as it danced its way after its alien master. "Or maybe he went straight through the wall."

"That's stupid, GIR – even for you." He clicked his claws together behind his back as he thought. "He had to have come through a door or something. But why was he after our snacks?"

"Pretty boxes," GIR cooed, "pretty, pretty boxes."

The alien snorted. "What would the human want with boxes, GIR? They've got millions of them. He was after our snacks, I know it."

Stepping into the containment area, Zim fixed his most ferocious glare on the odd human floating inside the energy field. The intruder had blue skin, blue eyes, and an incredibly ugly set of clothes. "This human is more disgusting than most of the others," Zim mumbled darkly. Raising his voice, he called out to the human, "Intruder! I am the great Invader Zim! Now, you will tell me all you know, and then I will liquefy your brains and feed them to the Tallest when they arrive."

The bluish human stared blankly at Zim for a few moments. 

"I know how _puny_ human brains are, so let's start with something easy. What's your _name_?" Zim picked up a small remote control and his finger hovered over the button that would send a jolt of electricity through the human.

"I am the _Box Ghost!_" the human wailed, waving his hands dramatically. "Fear my corrugated cardboard wrath!"

GIR chuckled and sat down on the floor. "Pretty boxes."

"Good," Zim commended the blue intruder, continuing to ignore the robot with the ease of months of practice. "Now. Where are you from?"

The human took a deep breath. "I am the Box Ghost! Fear me!"

Zim's finger pressed the button and the Box Ghost yelped when he was zapped by electricity. "No, that's not what I asked. Where are you from?"

"I will have my cubical vengeance!"

Again, electricity flowed through the field and Zim sighed, repeating his question. He had a feeling this was going to be a _long_ night. Beside him, GIR lay down on the floor to watch the show, occasionally humming the tunes to bubble-gum commercials.

* * *

Danny waved goodbye to his parents before slamming the door shut and screaming with delight. "They're _gone_!" His eyes traced over the empty couch in the living room before settling on the TV. "For five days, Danny Fenton is home alone. I get to watch whatever I want to, I get to stay out as late as I feel like, and there's nobody to tell me to get my feet of the table."

He sprang over the back of the couch and landed heavily on the cushions. The TV buzzed to life, showing a small boy in a pink hat trying to talk to a green cat. "Stupid show," Danny moaned before flipping the channels as fast as he could.

After going completely through the channels three times, Danny flicked off the TV. He got up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, checking out the refrigerator. It was full of pre-made meals for him to microwave when he got hungry. He slammed the door shut and roamed throughout the entire house.

Finally he ended up back in the living room. He stared at the blank screen for a few seconds before rolling his eyes in disbelief. "They've been gone a whole half an hour, Fenton," he muttered, "and you're already bored."

He grabbed the phone. "SAM!" he shouted when she picked up. "My parents are gone!"

"I know," her sarcastic tone came back, "you've only been talking about them leaving for three weeks. Congratulations."

"You and Tuck should come over so we can stay up all night watching B-rated sci-fi movies and gorging ourselves on popcorn and soda."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "You're bored already, aren't you."

Although it wasn't a question (and it was true), Danny instantly said, "No, I'm not!"

"Yes you are," Sam laughed. "After all that build up, you have no _clue_ what to do with yourself."

Danny scowled at the phone. "So are you coming over?"

"Fine. Maybe some ghost will show up and give us something to do." Sam clicked the phone down without another word.

Danny stared at the dead phone in his hand for a second before shaking his head and dialing Tucker. Before too long, the three best friends were sitting together on the worn Fenton couch, arguing over which of the horrible alien invasion movies they were going to watch first.

* * *

Zim chuckled as he sat down at the kitchen table. His interrogation of the intruder had been interesting. "The ability to walk through walls, be completely invisible, fly, and shoot energy beams?" He rubbed his claws together, his eyes literally glowing with delight. "And there's a whole _realm_ of them ripe for the taking!"

The silver robot trundled into the kitchen and set a plate full of waffles in front of the greenish alien. 

"Can you image it, GIR," Zim continued as he thought about it, "an entire _army_ of unstoppable warriors at _my_ command! There would be no way that the humans would be able to halt my invasion with these _ghosts_ by my side. Not even the evil Dib!"

GIR ate a bite of its waffle.

"I must have it. I must find a way to gain control of this… Ghost Zone. And you know what _that_ means, right GIR?"

The robot looked up. "Road trip?" it asked hopefully.

Zim's smile was wicked. "Yes. We need to find this place known as 'Amity Park'."

* * *

Uploaded March 18, 2008  
Sorry, InvaderJohnny, just not happening.  
Thanks for reading!


	83. Timely Returns: 5:49pm

_When you're all asking for a continuation… I continue. Sometimes. In this case, I will. Short but bittersweet sequel to #79 – Timely Returns: 5:27pm._

_This is the fourth drabble in two days! Go read the other new ones. :)_

* * *

**Timely Returns: 5:49pm  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Jack could, if he tried, hear the seconds ticking away into minutes as he stared down at the strange ghost curled up on the floor. He couldn't really believe that the child he had been searching for had… had… _transformed _into a spectral entity. Frozen in place, hanging in time, he let his mind search the glowing creature for _any_ sign of the son he remembered. 

The ghost's – _his son's,_ he correctly sharply – white hair was uncut and dangling down into eerie eyes that smoldered with pain and terror. Forever trapped in a black jumpsuit with silvery trim, the boy's wiry muscles framed an achingly thin form. Tiny cuts on his exposed skin were leaking a bit of greenish, glowing blood. Jack couldn't find anything in this boy that reminded him of his long-lost son. Not for the first moment in these endlessly ticking seconds of silence, he began to wonder if this really _was_ his child… or just a random ghost playing a cruel trick.

Then he saw something. He wasn't sure what it was, perhaps a flicker of remembrance from a time long past or maybe nothing more than a swirl of loving emotion that settled in his mind for only a fleeting heartbeat – but it was enough. Jack's mind instantly, quietly, rewrote the world around him.

_Danny_. Ignoring the white hair and the green blood and the powerful glow of energy, it _was_ his son. He could suddenly see the boy he had lost two years ago in every feature of the ghost's body. Doubts vanished from his mind. This wasn't just some ghost – this was his _child_.

But seconds continued to just tick by in their unceasing and never-changing way. After the silent, reaffirming revelation that the ghost was his missing son, Jack was waiting patiently for his mind to supply the next step. He waited for that moment when he would be overcome with love for his child and race forwards, without thought or care of his own safety, to wrap the boy in his arms, accept him no matter what, and never want to let go. He was a father, that was his son; that feeling of pure love and acceptance came with the package.

It didn't come. He continued to wait, watching the emotions swirl in Danny's eyes, but it didn't come. And, with a heart-wrenching feeling, he decided it wasn't going to. He loved his son… he loved the boy he remembered. 

Painfully, guiltily, with a nightmarish kind of slowness usually reserved for the torture of mass murderers, Jack came to the conclusion that he didn't love the ghost crouched in front of him. He didn't _know_ the boy, he had no idea what was going through Danny's mind, he couldn't fathom just what had happened to turn him into a ghost. His son was a stranger to him.

And he just couldn't truly love someone he didn't know.

Beside him, Maddie had sunk to her knees, one hand pressed tightly against her lips, her wide eyes staring at the ghost. Jack wondered, for a moment, if she was going through the same things in her mind as he had. Then, as his gaze drifted back to his son's form, he decided it didn't really matter. What mattered now was what _he_ did next. 

The clock ticked to 5:49pm as he stood there, his mind still working to wrap itself around the idea that his son was a ghost, confusion slowing his thoughts as he tried to figure out what to do. Danny wouldn't just sit there forever, he had to say something or do something or… something.

Jack's thoughts churned back to the image of himself, overcome with love and acceptance, throwing his arms around his child's shoulders. _That's_ what he should do, he decided, even though he didn't really feel it. He couldn't love the stranger his son had become, but he _could_ fake it until he learned more about Danny.

When his boy traversed those impossibly long feet to his son's form, his heart was heavy because he knew this was a conscious decision rather than one based on emotion. He watched Danny's supernatural eyes widen as he approached, knelt down, and pulled his son to him. Energy sparkled and fizzled against his nerves as he tightened his grip on Danny's chill body and rested his chin in the dirty, white hair.

He felt Danny freeze and stiffen at the contact; he could feel the tiny shudders that slipped through the too-thin frame. Then, after a long moment, he felt the tensed muscles relax. A flurry of bone-chilling lightning swirled through him, and then Danny's warm, human arms returned the hug.

Jack closed his eyes, a tear trickling down his cheek at he held his son. Remembered love curled just under his heart and a small smile tugged at his lips. Suddenly, Maddie appeared, finally shaken out of her daze, wrapping her arms around her son with tears flowing down her face. As he felt her warmth beside him, his smile grew just a tiny bit.

True, he couldn't love a stranger, but this was his son. He would find that love in his heart again. No matter what.

* * *

Uploaded March 19, 2008  
Hm... part three when Jazz comes home?  
Thanks for reading!


	84. Cookie Dough

_This has been on my computer for months. I've got a very 'blah' reaction to it and I can't figure out why or how to fix it. So I'm just going to post it and be done with it._

* * *

**Cookie Dough  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Maddie scooped up another glob of the chilled cookie dough and rolled it between her palms, her mind busily contemplating other things. The dust bunnies had recently become something of an issue that her normal cleaning supplies couldn't tackle. A batch of them had gotten covered with the leftover Ecto-Dejecto and it had taken over a week to discover where they had run off to. By that point they had multiplied and created an annoyingly resilient population of ghost dust bunnies. Even though Jack thought the things were hilarious, she was, personally, sick of the things nipping at her toes and fingers.

_Perhaps_, her mind wandered around in lazy circles, _I could figure out how to enhance the Ghost Weasel to vacuum them up… _Her eyes narrowed slightly. _Or they're a lot like mice. Maybe I could ghost-proof some kind of mouse trap. I might be able to catch some of them 'alive'._

Her internal musings were disrupted by the back door banging open. Glancing up, she watched, bemusedly, as her son walked into the kitchen dragging a large plastic garbage bin behind him. Before she could speak, he shot her a smile. "Hi Mom," he said as he centered the green container in the middle of the room and looked around with a serious expression on his face.

Hands still sticky from the peanut butter in the cookie dough, Maddie just raised an eyebrow as her son strode over to one side of the kitchen cabinets and started to riffle through the things piled inside. She watched him silently for a few moments. Then, with a shrug, she went back to rolling cookies and her mind went back to the vicious dust problem. _I wonder what you could use for bait in a ghost mouse trap. That might be a good use for that frozen fruitcake my sister sent me a few years ago. If we enhance it with some ectoplamsa it might attract…_

"Danny, what _are_ you doing?" she asked, her gaze drawn from her hands to what her son was doing. He had an armload of small bits of technology that he'd dug out of the cabinets.

Sending her a smile, he walked across the room and dumped the entire load of ghost technology into the bin. "I need to talk to you…" he trailed off, his forehead wrinkling as his gaze trailed around the room. Digging open a drawer by the refrigerator, he extracted a few small ghost weapons and tossed them into the container with the other technology with a grin.

"Talk to me about what?" Maddie picked at the sticky dough coating her fingers, confused at how that seemingly random statement answered her question.

Danny ignored her, kneeling down in front of the drawer that held the random office supplies, eyeing it like the drawer was an enemy to overcome. His hands suddenly snaked out, one yanking open the drawer and the other slipping quickly inside. "No," he breathed as the Boo-merang slid out of his grasping hands to whirl around the kitchen, beeping ominously.

Maddie watched the thing spin with a confused, slightly-dazed air. _I wonder if it's still attracted to him…_ She winced as the errant invention dropped out of the sky and collided with a painful-sounding smack against his shoulder. "Danny, are you okay?"

He nodded, pushing himself into a graceless tackle that pinned the device to the ground. Picking it up carefully, he dug out the batteries and dropped the weapon into the large bin. "Why do you guys keep putting the batteries back into that stupid thing?" he muttered darkly.

"We're trying to figure out why it's decided to follow you around," she answered. "Now, would you please answer my question? What are you doing?"

"I told you," he answered, returning to the drawer he'd opened and pulling out a few more pieces of ghost hunting technology. One of them dinged and announced, _"Ghost warning,"_ another metallically stated, "_I told you. Fear me," _while a third chimed up with, "_There is a ghost nearby: if you can't see it by now you must be a total moron."_ Danny chuckled softly at the machine's warnings before up-ending all of them into the rapidly-filling container. "I told you," he said again, "I need to talk to you."

Maddie shook her head in confusion and sighed. "Why does talking to me involve you cleaning every pieces of ghost hunting equipment out of the kitchen?"

"You'll see," he said cryptically, opening the refrigerator and checking behind the emergency ham. Pulling out the box of backup batteries for the auxiliary weapons vault, Danny shot her a look and rolled his eyes. "And Jazz says _I'm_ obsessive," he murmured before dumping the box into the can with a clatter. "Where else…"

"You're putting everything back when you're done." Shaking her head when her son merely absently nodded his agreement, Maddie went back to her cookies and tried to ignore her son as he dragged a kitchen chair around and started digging through the upper cabinets. _I wonder how many of those dust bunnies there are by this point. I've never heard of ghosts reproducing before – this could be an interesting study of the ghost 'life cycle'. If they can reproduce, that would signify that they also 'die' at the end of their 'life'. These creatures might redefine the way we see ghosts… if only I could stop the stupid things from…_

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Danny remove a small plasma pistol from one of the large china serving bowls. Then, with a slightly chagrinned feeling, she rolled her eyes as he pulled not one, but _three_ half-built ecto-foamers from the top shelves. Maddie dropped the last cookie onto the baking sheet just as the oven dinged, informing her that it was finished pre-heating.

Danny dropped off the chair when he finished searching through every nook and cranny of the kitchen. After placing the ecto-foamers into the now overflowing bin, he shook his head sourly. "You've got more ghost stuff in here than food, you know that?" Without waiting for an answer, he placed his hands on the edge of the garbage can and started pushing it towards the back door.

"You want me to get the door…" she hesitated when all of the ghost-seekers and alarms started to blare from their places inside the bin. Danny glanced at her one last time before simply pushing the overloaded container _straight through the closed door_.

Maddie froze, her eyes widening in confusion. Dusting his hands off, her son walked back into the room and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, gesturing for her to have a seat. "I need to talk to you _without_ having to worry about being attacked by something."

She nodded faintly, wondering what trick he'd just pulled on her and how that was possible and why he'd taken all the ghost technology and when she'd wake up from this crazy dream and – perhaps most strangely – if Danny had any idea how to catch feral ghost dust bunnies. He grabbed a washcloth and handed it to her to wipe her sticky hands.

Twirling a chair around, he dropped into it backwards and rested his elbows on the chair back. He sighed and then glanced up, studying her reactions carefully with two glowing green eyes. "Mom… there's something about me I should've told you awhile ago."

* * *

Uploaded March 30, 2008  
April Fools' Day is approaching... better watch out...  
Thanks for reading!


	85. You're Not Being You

_Not what I should be working on… I was going to finish up my next 'Pits' chapter (or work on the Zim fic that's sitting on my desktop...), but this came out instead. Sorry. :) Pointless, plot-less drabble. DxS _

* * *

**You're Not Being You  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny stuffed his hands into his pockets as he strolled through the halls of Casper High. As usual (at least lately), people stepped out of his way and formed a small, shifting bubble of space around him. At first he had been a little freaked out by this. But now he was just used to it. Most of the people he was walking past wouldn't ever realize that they had taken that small step away from him and the ones that did would never figure out why they had done it.

The thought, however, never failed to draw a little sigh out of him - even after all these years. It was just another example of how different he was from the others. A freak. It didn't matter how used to it he got, it was still depressing. Some days he could _almost_ understand how Vlad had gotten so disenchanted and separated from the world.

Drifting aimlessly towards his last class of the day, Danny let his focus wander, letting himself slip closer to his ghost side. Emotions rolled through the crowded hallways like a mass of storm clouds, bumping and growing and spinning and chaotic, and as he felt them grow stronger and more clear as he contemplated them. The curiously distracting background emotional noise took over his mind and flooded through his thoughts.

He could feel varying shades of _-happy!-_ and _-bored- _sliding off of the people around him and curling around his mind. For a moment he felt a twist of lemon-bright _-anger!-_ snake towards him. He hesitated, glancing around for Dash and ducking his shoulders, before he shrugged and made his way up the stairs like a modern-day Moses parting the Red Sea. Dash hadn't bullied him in months - hadn't even acknowledged his presence, really - but shrinking away from the feel of Dash was still an instinctive gesture built from years of torment.

Licking his lips as he stepped out onto the second floor, caught up in the swirl of seniors all heading for class (although he wasn't nearly as bumped and jostled as the rest of the students), he took a deep breath. Allowing his feet to direct him to the proper class, he let his mind uncoil and ripple out over the students. The effect was instantaneous and Danny flinched a bit, guilty... but he didn't stop. _-curiosity?- _All around him, students hesitated and their rapid pace slowed, the hairs on the backs of their necks standing up at the gentle touch of spectral energy. _-worry!- _But, since this was Amity Park and this was Casper High and he had been doing this particular trick for years, after a long moment of nothing happening they just blinked and went back to whatever they had been doing. A little slower and with a touch less emotion, but their lives kept churning forwards.

Danny, meanwhile, was keeping his head down as the powerful teenage emotions he was skimming off his classmates funneled through the air and collected inside of him. His ghost side was busy churning the raw human emotions into usable spectral energy and storing it for later use. His gaze was fixed firmly on the ground passing under his feet for two reasons: the first being the fact that his eyes were glowing as he 'digested' this meal; the second being he couldn't _quite_ look at people when he was feeding off of them. He had to do this - but that doesn't mean he had to like it.

He had tried to ignore the emotions raging around him when he had first realized he was feeding on his classmates a few years ago. He'd been rather successful too. For nearly two weeks he had survived... although he'd gotten sicker and sicker with every passing day and the whole debacle included three visits to the clinic and more tests than a half-ghost should have to go through. The experiment in 'attempting to be more human than he really was' had ended with a three-hour, delirious rampage through central park. After which, he had been told, in no uncertain terms by Sam, Tucker, his sister, and his mother (which was odd, since she had no idea what was causing it but yet somehow managed to hit the theoretical nail on the head in a way only a mother could), to never do that again.

So, every few days since that little disaster he would wander through the hallways and open himself up to the emotions that roamed around the school, always having to suppress a shudder as he contemplated what, exactly, he was doing. It didn't help that quite a bit of him enjoyed doing this. During these few minutes he was so _connected_. The human race generally pushed him away; this pulled him back to them. He felt a few muscles in his neck and shoulders relax. It was only at times like this that he really felt calm and at peace with the world.

_-annoyed!-_ drifted through the air and Danny felt a small grin grow on his face. He could see Sam's boots appear, falling in line next to him, as they walked towards English. "Paulina is such a witch," Sam muttered darkly, "and I don't mean the type of witches that I like. She's the kind with warts, cackling, dark intentions, and mangy cats as pets. No offense to the mangy cats or the warts."

"What'd she do?" Danny asked softly, not looking up. Usually when Sam or Tucker showed up he would pull himself back together and stop feeding off his classmates, but today he didn't. He didn't wonder why and, if he would have paused to think about it, he probably wouldn't be able to put it into words anyways.

As Sam dove head-first into her Paulina rant, complaining about stolen project ideas and something about the other girl's latest Phantom Phan Club, Danny let his eyes close a little. He would never have admitted it to the girl stalking down the hallway next to him, but as much as he enjoyed listening to her rant... he enjoyed _feeling_ her rant a little more. When most people ranted, their emotions were stuck firmly in _-annoyed!-_ mode. Sam drifted constantly between _-annoyed!-_ and _-frustrated!-_ and, surprisingly, _-jealous!_-_. _It was a rainbow of emotions tapping gently against his nerves.

If he would have had the nerve, he would have told the beautiful girl next to him that he had never tasted anyone as tantalizing. He would have meant it as a compliment, but he wasn't sure that she'd take it that way. Besides, he couldn't even manage to spit out, 'you're pretty', much less something more complicated to explain, so he usually contented himself with figuring it would never happen. They were perfect friends and he didn't need anything more than that.

"Are you even listening to me?" Sam said suddenly, one hand appearing in front of Danny's face and waving for a moment.

Danny blinked, pulling his thoughts back to reality and lifted his head slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. _-concern_-briefly flickered through the bouquet of her emotions as she realized what he was doing. The glowing irises of his eyes gave it away, no doubt. Although he was still 'hungry', he instantly yanked himself back together and pushed his peers' emotions out of his mind.

"You don't have to stop," Sam murmured, probably noticing that his eyes had stopped glowing. "I was just... surprised. I know you're not hurting anything."

Shrugging, a little uncomfortable with the topic, Danny glanced away. "S'okay."

"No." Sam touched his shoulder, stopping in the corridor. Danny hesitated and took a small step towards her as people flowed around them, the ever-present bubble appearing as the humans unconsciously kept away from the half-ghost child in their midst. "It's _not_ okay. You are who and what you are and you shouldn't have to be anything but who you are meant to be." Her voice held a ring of finality to it.

Danny raised an eyebrow, the messy bundle of nerves in his stomach unwinding a little. He hated talking about the fact that he had to feed on humans to survive... but this was Sam. And since it was Sam, he felt a small smile flicker onto his face and a joking tone entered his voice. "So, you think I should feed off of humans all the time, then?"

She arched an eyebrow to match his, silent. Danny's grin grew a little as he rolled his eyes and started towards class, putting the conversation behind him. The hallway was quickly emptying and they were going to be late - again. Suddenly, Sam spoke. "Yes. I think you should."

Hesitating, Danny glanced over his shoulder. "Why?" he wondered softly.

"Because that's who you are." She moved, passing him in the hallway as she walked towards class. "And because that's just _you_. You're always more... peaceful... when you're just being you. It's nice to see that. I like it when you're you."

"It's nice." Danny stepped forwards to keep up with her, a tiny piece of his mind thrilling at the '_I like it when you're you'_. "It's _nice._"

"Yes." Her violet eyes met his, her eyes narrowing suspiciously when she noticed his eyes weren't glowing. "You're not being you."

Chuckling, Danny shook his head. "Only you could make _that_ make sense." Then, a little to his surprise, he let out his breath and opened himself back up to the emotions still thick in the air around them. _-satisfaction_-curled around Sam as she saw his eyes start to glitter with an internal, supernatural light. _-happy-_

"You really can't tell that your eyes glow unless you're in a shadow," Sam said. "Nobody looks at you closely enough to notice anyways. I say you try 'feeding' off of us humans all through English. Maybe it'll keep you awake, if nothing else."

"As if. Lancer puts everything to sleep… including the flies on the walls." Danny couldn't help the contented smile on his face as he felt that simple feeling of _connectedness_ appear around him. Sam's emotions swirled warmly through him, whispering against his nerves and brushing away his worries. _-content-_

The bell rang, startling the two friends into moving a bit faster through the halls. As they walked, Danny relaxed into the feelings that Sam was sending unconsciously in his direction. He wondered, for a moment, what she'd do if he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. But he decided that wrapping his mind around her emotions was good enough for now.

* * *

Uploaded April 8, 2008  
Aw... okay. That was kinda stupid (and not a wonderful place to end). Now back to my normally scheduled terror...  
Thanks for reading!


	86. Spectral Spy

_Hm... still not what I should be working on, and not the terror-filled drabble I was planning to post. But whatever. Perhaps to be continued at some point. This is the 'intro' to a whole story (Meli challenged me to write a DP episode in DP style with all DP characters) which is all plotted out. Dunno if it be continued will though. I have too many other projects. _

* * *

**Spectral Spy  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Jack Fenton glanced up from his latest invention – the Fenton Ecto-Evaporator – at the loud knock on the door. Then he looked back down, getting back to work and ignoring the visitor. Nobody else was home and the person would go away… eventually. "This goes there…" he murmured as he connected a few more cables. Just a bit longer and this would be finished. Another two hours, maybe three.

The knocking came again, more insistently this time. Again Jack glanced up, only to decide, once more, that whoever was at the door was less important than the contraption he was working on. He needed to get this done before the next ghost attack. The invading ghost would draw that Danny Phantom kid out into the open so he could get a clear shot. The ghost kid would never know what hit him; instead of being evaporated, as the name of the invention would suggest, something very different would happen. Jack had chosen the name of his creation very carefully to keep the ghosts confused, and he... The pounding came again, startling Jack out of his thoughts, and this time the noise included a voice that called, "Jack Fenton?"

With a loud sigh, Jack put down his half-completed invention and slumped through the kitchen to the front door. He hated being dragged away from his inventing. If he put something down he never seemed to be able to pick it back up again later and finish it. The Fenton Ecto-Evaporator was as good as a paperweight, now.

In a childish moment of irritation, he wondered if he could 'accidently' set off the ghost alarms and cover the visitor in some sort of goo. Most of the local door-to-door salesmen knew to avoid their house by this point. Apparently blathering about the world's most exciting and next-generation technology and then dunking the salesmen in radioactive ooze worked better than guard dogs when it came to keeping most salespeople away. There were a few, still, that braved the Fenton doorstep; this was most likely one of them.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he muttered when the person knocked – banged – on the door a fourth time. Finally reaching the door, he twisted the knob and yanked it open, fixing the man on the other side with a blank glare, still annoyed at the interruption. "What do you want."

The man, dressed all in black with a pair of sparkling sunglasses, looked a little taken-aback at the gruff tone. "Jack Fenton?" he asked softly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes." Jack waited for the sales pitch to start, but the man simply reached into his inner coat pocket and drew out a business card. Jack took it wordlessly, still wondering where the man had stashed the items he was trying to sell. Then his heart dropped as he realized this was no salesperson. This was much worse. This person was going to try to get money from him… or maybe convert him to a new religion. The 'accidental goo covering' was sounding better and better.

"My name is 7272," the man stated, pointing to his business card as he spoke in quick, quiet tones. Jack glanced at the card and, true enough, the card was blank except for those four letters, written in embossed ink in the center. "I'm a secret government agent working for a world organization."

"You're a what?"

The man sighed, pushing his sunglasses up his nose, and spoke a little slower. "I'm a spy, Jack Fenton, and I need your particular brand of help."

"A spy?" Jack felt a glimmer of excitement at those two words, a smile appearing on his face. He'd always wanted to be a secret agent – the paranormal version of Indian Jones or 007. Pushing the thoughts of his unfinished invention out of his mind, Jack stepped backwards, gesturing for the black clothed man to step inside.

"No, it's best if we're not seen together for long." He glanced from side to side and slipped closer to Jack, lowering his voice even further. "I'm on a secret mission – one involving ghosts. I believe that my target is a ghost hiding amongst the human population of Amity Park, but I've been unable to locate him."

Jack's grin grew. "I know ghosts!" he said excitedly, wincing when the secret agent shushed him. "I know ghosts," he repeated in a whisper.

"The safety of the world depends on my success at this mission," the man continued, "and I'm getting worried that my target will move out of the area and I'll have to start over at ground zero in a new place. I need another set of eyes… a set that knows how to see a ghost even when the ghost doesn't want to be seen. Jack Fenton, I've heard you're the best man for the job."

"What do you want me to do?" Jack whispered, his eyes glowing at the idea of being on a secret mission with a secret agent to try to protect the world. He'd be a real life hero! His family would love that.

"This is a secret," the man said sharply, as if he could read Jack's thoughts, "you're not allowed to tell anyone. Not your family, not your friends… not even the ghosts. Can you do that?"

Jack wilted a little. He wasn't good at keeping secrets, especially from Maddie. But he couldn't turn down the opportunity to be a spy, even for a day. Sure, Maddie would know all about this by supper, but the spy didn't have to know that and Maddie could keep a secret. He nodded. "You can count on Jack Fenton!"

"Great." The man pulled a manila folder out of his black jacket and handed it over. 'Confidential' and 'Top Secret' were stamped boldly across the cover. "Here is a copy of the information I have on my target. I want you to look at it and see if you can come up with anything to help me track him down. If you figure out who he is or who he's hiding inside or any clues at all… let me know. My number is on the back of the card."

Grabbing the folder, Jack nodded again, all thoughts of going back and trying to finish that invention – whatever it had been called – thrown out of his mind for good. His hands trembled a little at the idea actually holding a top secret government folder.

"The world is counting on us, Jack Fenton. I hope you're up for the challenge."

Jack's grin split his face from ear to ear as the secret agent turned and slunk back down the sidewalk to a bright white van. Closing the door, Jack's shaking hands opened the folder. He stared down at the pictures of the ghost. "Jack Fenton, secret agent," he whispered.

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Uploaded April 13, 2008  
I take my ghosts shaken, not stirred. XD  
Thanks for reading!


	87. Dreams

_The POINT isn't how many you've written, it's how many are in one file. So :p_

_Don't try to make sense of this one. Just read it and go with it._

* * *

**Dreams  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

She screamed, clawing at the edges of the clouds as she tumbled, flightless, through the night air. Stars sparkled unforgivingly above her falling form, the feathers of her broken wings cascading around her like a miniature tornado. For a moment she could have sworn that her grasping fingers caught hold of the edge of something, but her momentum wrenched the perch from her hands and she continued to descend through the sky.

Down and down she fell, twisting and turning haphazardly; the raucous laughter of the demons that had caused her fall flooded through her thoughts and were barely audible over the shrieking of the wind in her ears. "No," she sobbed, the dark and shadowed ground appearing as a dark blur before her eyes. There would be no saving her. Her beautiful wings were shattered, her careless flight suspended, the demonic creatures overhead would never think to rescue her from this fate.

She brushed through a low-hanging cloud, the cold mist clinging to her clothes and hair, ripping away the last of her precious feathers. Blinking back tears, she captured one of the pinions in her fingers just before the wind carried it away. Shimmering, iridescent, it almost glowed in the soft light of the moon and the stars as she clung to it. It couldn't save her… but it was her in some ways. In a way she couldn't always remember, except in the dark of the night when she was soaring above the clouds and dancing in the moonlight.

She sobbed desperately, holding the single feather close to her as the ground rushed up to meet her form. A million times this death had come reaching through the darkness to brush against her best dreams, to snatch away the life that she loved to live, and to destroy her most sacred of desires. To live, to fly, to just be herself… it was more than she could ever hope to have.

The ghosts appeared, as they always did at this point of the nightmare, grinning in maniacal delight as they dove with her towards the ground, arms outstretched and eyes closed in ecstasy. Blue, green, red, orange, yellow, and purple, they sparkled and swirled around her, dancing to the tune of her quickly approaching demise. She breathed, her throat shuddering and gasping for air against the currents.

Once.

Twice.

Then the ground appeared. She shrieked in panic, managing to half-twist one more time before she slammed into the ground at terminal velocity. Bones snapped, flesh audibly tore, her skull was smashed into fragments like a small china doll dropped onto a hard floor, and her carefully guarded feather was wrenched from her fingers.

The ghosts, not as confined to mortal flesh as her, even in this strange oft-repeated dream, vanished through the ground. She knew, even as her mind was wiped clean by the agony of her death, that the ghosts would not reappear tonight. They would save their haunting for the next time she once again spread her perfect wings to fly through the moonlight, reveling in the delight that soaring never failed to bring to her heart, even though she knew it would always end in a plummet to her end.

Tonight was no different from any other night. As she lay on the ground, unable to even writhe in pain as darkness claimed her vision and her soul tried to flee from the confines of her mangled corpse, a figure appeared. Always it would hover around the edges of her sight until she vanished into nothingless, but tonight something was different.

It didn't just prowl around her, dark and ominous. It approached, kneeling down beside her. Such was her pain that she didn't recognize the face until he had leaned over her, blank green eyes staring into her dying ones. "Maddie?" he whispered.

But that's not what she heard. The phantom's voice echoed weirdly in her dream, twisting the words as they tried to enter her ears and spark against what remained of her brain. "Mommy…" the voice breathed. Still the eyes remained blank as they watched her struggle to take one last breath before she passed from this world. Ribs had shattered when she had impacted the ground, her lungs had become nothing more than mush. Air rasped in her throat for less than a moment before blood gushed out of her mouth.

Light faded, the glittering stars vanishing in a haze of darkest red, the moon slowly disappearing from sight until the only thing left for her to see was the face of the phantom. Until another face appeared, leaning over her, concern and fear in two blue eyes. "Mom?" he rasped, dropping down to his knees and ignoring the ghost still staring dispassionately at her.

It is said that death comes on swift wings, bringing with it all the knowledge of the universe and everything in it. She knew that wasn't true. A million times she had died, a million times she had wished for death to come a bit quicker. Each time, however, a single truth was revealed to her. Death does not bring with it all the knowledge of the universe… it brings one truth with it. One thing to hold next to her heart as it beat its last, one thing that would be left ringing through her mind as it descended into darkness.

A million deaths. A million truths. A million things to be forgotten when this nightmare once again vanished from her grasp. She knew, even in this twisted dream, that she would forget. But she struggled to remember, to learn, to hold it to her. One tiny blue feather of reality against all the infinite realms of death.

The two boys – one a ghost, one a human – stared down at her as her heart gave one last lurch. In that instant, the truth was revealed. How alike they looked, shining in the light of her death. The same, really. Her son moved a little closer, his head overlapping that of the phantom's, his eyes wide with terror.

The world grew dark, everything but the two boys fading into the darkness that stole life from her. She couldn't even blink anymore, watching in dazed fascination as the faces merged. One a ghost, one a human… until a boy stared at her with black hair and glowing emerald eyes. Not two. One.

Then the rest of her sight faded away, stealing her child from her. The only thing left for her to see in the infinite abyss of death was a solitary blue feather, dancing on unseen winds just before her. She reached for it, desperate to grab the shimmering pinion of light, frantic to keep that piece of truth with her for the rest of eternity. Not two – one. One.

It twirled just above her as she tried to move her shattered arms, tried to scream with her broken mouth, tried to fight against the death that was half-an-instant from capturing her and stealing her away from it…

The ground fell out from under her and she dropped into a chasm, her mind unable to shriek in frustration as the iridescent feather continued to flutter above her, unclaimed. A million deaths. A million truths. A million things forgotten that could have changed the world and everything in it. She kept her eyes on the tiny sparkle of light, however impossible the task of retrieving it as she fell into the thoughtless depths of the afterlife. A feather. A star. A dream. A pinprick of light. A moment of hope. A singular truth.

She gasped suddenly, her lungs startled into working as she dropped, hard, into her body. Her eyes wrenched themselves open, staring around for something she couldn't remember she was desperate to search for. She pushed herself up on shaky arms, her breath rasping in her throat.

She couldn't remember the dream, the nightmare. Not anymore. She remembered flying, and feathers, and falling, and ghosts… but it drifted out of her grasp almost before she could make it appear in her mind. Slippery as eels, quick as lightning, quiet as butterflies, it was gone. All that was left was a faint disquieting feeling that she had just forgotten something very important.

Pushing herself out of bed, just as she'd done a thousand times before, ever since she was a very small girl, she padded quietly through the deserted house to get a glass of water. Her heart slowed from its frantic pace as her mind settled. Sipping slowly on the cold water, she leaned on the counter and gazed out at the glistening stars, wondering what it would be like to fly so freely up there.

She couldn't fly, however, and in the waking world she knew that. With a sigh, the distant wish was pushed from her mind and she turned to head back to bed. When she was little, she would stop and glance in at her parents or her little sister while they slept. After she'd found Jack, that became the tradition, followed quickly by checking on her beautiful daughter. Now, however, she found herself drawn to her son's room.

Pushing open the door slightly, she leaned against the doorframe and took another sip of her water, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. For some reason she couldn't fully comprehend, not while awake, she had needed to check to make sure her precious child was still breathing. Still alive.

A million and one forgotten deaths were on her shoulders, and she didn't wish a single one on her child. "Not two…" she whispered as a thought brushed against her mind, but it was gone in the flicker of a firefly. She stood there for a long time, comforted by the soft sound of his breathing, captivated in the life that still existed in him, not really knowing why.

Then, letting out a deep breath, she turned and let his door click shut as she headed back to bed. Perhaps, this time, the universe would allow her to keep the truths it so fleetingly showed her in her sleep.

As she curled up next to the warm bulk of her husband and her thoughts drifted off into the nothingness of dreams, she couldn't help but wonder. Feathers sprouted from her back, beautiful blue and iridescent, a million and one carefully groomed truths that allowed her to sail through her star-studded dreams. This time, however, a boy laughed and barrel-rolled through the sky next to her, helping to fight off the demons that would shatter her wings and send her falling through the clouds.

Even lost in their sleep, both she and the boy had small smiles on their faces.

* * *

Uploaded April 14, 2008  
Don't look at me like that...  
Thanks for reading!


	88. Guardians: The Youngest Fan

_Probably the end of the 'Guardians' oneshots, unless I come up with a good idea for another. _

_Note that there will only be 100 Star Shots. We're coming up to the end of them..._

_Enjoy. ;)_

**

* * *

**

**Guardians of the Secret: The Youngest Fan  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Jeremiah Higgins was all of five years old. Despite his parents' stalwart disbelief in anything impossible (Santa Claus, ghouls and goblins, magic, aliens, superheroes, you name it), Jeremiah had a powerful imagination. Yes, it got him into trouble more often than not, but it was almost magical in its ability to create. Sandboxes became alien landscapes where he battled the worst the universe could throw at him. Fallen, crinkled leaves became immense robots that rained doom and destruction upon the rest of the leaves. His bedroom became a jungle filled with dangerous creatures.

Jeremiah's parents did not believe in ghosts – it fell solidly into their category of 'impossible'. Every news report of 'strange happenings' was met with scoffs of impossibility and theories about the (undoubtedly) teenage culprits that were hoodwinking the town and pulling off this elaborate hoax. When the rumors of a 'ghost boy' started to circulate, they merely raised their eyebrows a little higher and construed it as proof that there really _was_ a teenage boy behind everything. He'd been seen, hadn't he? It was a perfectly human boy in need of some discipline and more parental oversight.

Being only five, Jeremiah couldn't do much when his parents got into their anti-ghosts-existing rant or into their kids-need-more-discipline-these-days tirade. He would merely duck his head and nod and say the appropriate things to make his parents believe he agreed wholeheartedly with them. "Yes, Mom." "Right, Dad." "Uh-huh." "Yes, Dad." Inside his mind, however, was a different story.

You couldn't find another boy in all of Amity Park who was more enthralled with the idea of ghosts, a spectral superhero, and a supernatural war taking place right inside the city limits. While his head was bobbing and he was mumbling the phrases he knew would keep his parents happy, his mind soared with all sorts of thoughts. Strangely, it was through his parents' well-meaning, one-sided conversations that he learned a lot of information about the ghost-boy of Amity Park… and he fell in love with it. The sand box at school was quickly rechristened 'Amity Park' and the ghost-boy (played by a leaf) saved the townspeople (played by rocks) from the devious and evil ghosts (usually played by twigs).

Jeremiah was one of Phantom's first and most loyal followers. He waited impatiently for the news each night, sitting down next to his parents to watch the local broadcast. His father, noting his child's increased interest in the news, praised his son, spoke proudly of him to his coworkers, and thought that his boy was becoming interested in politics. "The next president," Mr. Higgins started to proclaim. His father couldn't have been more wrong. Jeremiah didn't know a thing about world politics – he couldn't even pronounce the word 'politics' correctly – and he would have had absolutely no interest in it if he knew what the word meant. No, Jeremiah watched the news for the ghost report, always crossing his fingers that his parents wouldn't drown out the soft-spoken reporter with their chatter.

He would listen, raptly, as the reporters described each ghostly occurrence. He would stare hungrily at any pictures that could be found. The night of the mayor's kidnapping, he was transfixed when they showed a few moments of the video tapes from City Hall, actually getting to see his superhero in action. It never crossed his mind that Phantom had been 'kidnapping' and was the evil one in the picture.

The next day he hurried off to kindergarten, waited impatiently for recess, and then played through an impressive recreation of what he had seen on the news. If his parents or teachers would have known what he'd been up to, they would have been astounded at the level of detail he was remembering at such a young age. But as was usual in an era of distractibility and standardized testing, it was his fellow students who noticed what Jeremiah was doing first. They began to crowd around the sand box to watch, soon arguing over who would get to be Phantom (it wasn't unusual to have five Phantoms in the sand box at once) and who had to be the ghosts (many of the 'ghosts' transformed into aliens and robots during the battles, which suited the kids just fine). The teachers, oblivious to what was really happening, just shrugged and complimented each other on their teaching of social skills and group dynamics. The students, meanwhile, had formed the very first Phantom fan club. Secret passwords and everything; no adults allowed (unless they knew the secret password _and_ brought snacks).

The months passed quickly for Jeremiah. He hardly ever missed the news and he loved pretending to be Phantom while he was playing. In January he could have been classified as obsessed – if anyone old enough to classify would have noticed what he was doing – about the mysterious ghost boy. By March, his secret notebook, kept hidden under his bed so his parents wouldn't find it, was completely filled with pictures of his supernatural superhero and he had to ask his parents for another one. Everything was going so smoothly.

But, by the end of April, Jeremiah had turned six and his teachers had started to take notice of the strange boy in their midst. It was unusual, they quibbled, for the boy to do nothing but play with leaves and sticks in the sandbox. Even more so since he was obviously intelligent; top of his class, already reading, doing basic mathematics… Something needed to be done, questions needed to be answered.

Friday, April 29th, 3:45pm was the time that was set for a special parent-teacher conference. Due to a last-minute cancellation by a babysitter, Jeremiah was brought with and left to play in the sandbox while the adults talked. Jeremiah didn't really understand what his parents went inside to talk about – something about a test – but he was happy that he got to play in the sandbox by himself. He could get to be Phantom without any interference from Benjamin or Callie or Ramon, there would be no Connor to pretend to be Godzilla and trample all over the sandbox Amity Park, and Michelle wouldn't be there to cry whenever her 'evil' ghost got defeated.

It took just moments for the Amity Park of Jeremiah's dreams to be ready to go. He carefully placed the rock people between the crumbling remains of the sandcastles from earlier in the day and debated over which of the twigs to be his evil ghost for the day. One twig looked particularly malevolent to him, baring a slight and mostly imaginary resemblance to the silvery ghost the news called 'Skulker'. Bad guy selected and perched on the pile of sand and rocks that represented Amity Park East Elementary School, Jeremiah set out to find his Phantom. Dead leaves were scarce in the spring, so he ended up having to use another twig for Phantom.

The pieces were set. The battle was waged. "Boom, bang, shish!" Jeremiah cried as he made his stick Phantom fly over his imaginary town. He grabbed his twig Skulker and let out a fierce growl, bringing his hands closer together as they fought. "Szwam! Bang! Kaboom!"

"You'll never get me, Phantom!" he growled as he twitched his Skulker-stick. "I'll destroy you!" he yelled, shaking his Phantom-twig, "I will save Amity Park!" Jeremiah raised the hand that contained his Skulker to the sky, and… and…

His mouth dropped open. There, in the sky beyond his hand, was the _real Skulker. _Jeremiah instantly forgot about the war being waged in the small sandbox, both imaginary ghosts falling to the sand, his attention fixed on the ghost over his head. "Phantom," he whispered, jerking around and trying to stare in every direction. Even though he wasn't any more than six, Jeremiah knew that where one ghost went, his hero was sure to follow.

However, being no more than six years old, Jeremiah didn't really consider what to do about the rather evil ghost floating no more than twenty feet over his head. Actually, once he realized Phantom was probably in the area, he didn't give a second thought to the ghost.

Skulker, being a bit older and wiser than a kindergartener playing make-believe in a sandbox, took the opportunity that was presented. He swooped out of the sky like a raptor towards its small prey, easily grasping the boy around the waist and dragging him up into the air. "New bait," the metallic ghost crowed happily. "I'll get that whelp yet."

"_Phantom!"_ Jeremiah screamed in panic, trusting more to the ghost to save him than his own parents. He watched, eyes brimming with tears, as his parents and his teacher rushed out of the building, shrieking his name as he was pulled higher into the sky and away from their grasp. "_MOMMY!"_

"Quit your griping," Skulker ordered, switching his hold on the squirming Jeremiah until he was holding the boy upside down by one ankle. "You should be pleased that I, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter, have chosen you to be my bait."

Jeremiah wasn't listening anymore. Dangling upside down was horrible… but doing it while a hundred feet in the air and flying quickly over some very tall buildings was a nightmare. He cried uncontrollably, sobbing as he kicked at the hand holding him so uncomfortably tightly, screaming even louder when his foot smashed into the metal arm and broke a few of his toes.

"Humans are so annoying," Skulker grumbled under his breath, unable to hear the chirping of his ghost radar over the noise of Jeremiah's shrieking. There was an incoming ghost and Skulker was too preoccupied to notice.

Jeremiah's eyes flickered open for just a moment as he took in a ragged breath, his gaze catching sight of a small blur of black, white, and green that was streaking towards them. "Ph-ph-phan-tom," he sobbed between screams of terror.

The teenage ghost-boy, the creature Jeremiah's parents proclaimed to be an 'elaborate hoax', flipped through the air and grabbed Jeremiah tightly just as one carefully aimed blast forced Skulker let go of the boy's ankle. Jeremiah settled into Phantom's arms and the two of them dropped quickly through the air. The young boy wrapped his arms around the ghost's neck, burying his head in Phantom's shoulder.

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Skulker halted his flight and examined his damaged hand. "Whelp," the ghost ground out, "I'm going to hang you on my wall for that."

"So you've said," Phantom retorted sourly. "Don't drag little kids into this. That's low – even for you."

Skulker held out his undamaged arm, an ectogun appearing like something out of a comic book. "No, it's smart tactics. Now you've got something to protect. You can't fly as fast."

Phantom's arms clenched a little tighter around his small charge. "You wouldn't… He's just a kid!"

"I don't care." The ectogun whined painfully as energy was pulled out of the air and formed into a brilliant ball of light at the end of the barrel. Skulker aimed… and shot.

Jeremiah stifled a scream as the two of them suddenly dove towards the ground, the blast sizzling the air right above their heads. His eyes were firmly closed, every molecule of his being wishing that he was somewhere _other_ than here. He couldn't really tell what was going on with his eyes shut, but he could feel it in his stomach. When they sharply leveled out, Jeremiah couldn't help but gasp in nauseating fear.

"Damn it, Skulker!" Phantom twisted and barrel-rolled through town, dodging blast after blast and net after annoying trap. Cars honked and people screamed when the aerial display got too close to populated areas. More than once, Phantom was forced to turn both himself and the young boy intangible and dive through the ground or through buildings and trees to escape their pursuer. All the while, the ghost-boy was keeping up a soft monologue. "It'll be okay, just hang on, we're going to be fine, we'll get there, hang on, I've got you, you're safe…"

Jeremiah shivered when Phantom started to do more than just evade the never-ending stream of attacks. He could feel the air charge around them as the heroic ghost collected energy and aimed it towards their attacker. Power flooded around them, his hair standing up on end, static charges zapping uncomfortably along his body.

He listened, too scared by this point to even scream, as Phantom yelled out in triumph and taunted the other ghost. Over and over, energy cascaded over his body – and all young Jeremiah Higgins could do was hold on for his life with his trembling arms. "I wanna go home," he whispered, more to himself than anything else.

A blue light, impossibly bright, sizzled through even Jeremiah's tightly closed eyes… and all was silent. He could feel Phantom's chest heaving as the ghost struggled to take a deep breath, he could feel the ghost's arms shaking tiredly as Phantom wrapped both of them securely back around Jeremiah. "It's okay now. He's gone." The ghost sounded relieved.

Jeremiah couldn't find it in himself to raise his head to look up at his hero. Tears were streaming silently down his cheeks, his breath was coming in short gasps, his whole body was trembling with terror. This was nothing like the games that he had been playing. This was… this was… scary. "Mommy…" he sobbed softly.

"I know," Phantom breathed, holding the boy close as he headed tiredly back in the direction Skulker had come from, hoping to find a few hysterical parents somewhere along the way. Otherwise he would have to drop the terrified boy off at a police station or something, and he didn't really want to do that.

They were just drifting over East Elementary School when they heard the hoarse screams of Jeremiah's parents filling the air. The two of them, followed closely by Jeremiah's teacher, principal, and two police officers, raced up the street towards where Phantom was floating. The ghost-boy dropped down heavily to the sidewalk and waited.

"Let go of him," one of the police officers yelled, his gun coming up to point at the ghost, "Now, Inviso-Bill."

Phantom tried to push the boy away, but Jeremiah's arms were clenched too tightly around his savior. "He won't let go," Phantom said softly, his entire body tinged with exhaustion. "I'm not going to hurt him."

The police officer looked doubtful, but Jeremiah's mother pushed past the two men. "Jeremiah!" she yelled, racing forwards. She wrapped her arms around her boy and Phantom took the moment to turn intangible, freeing himself from the young boy's clutches. "You're okay, you're safe, you're okay," she sobbed, rocking her child back and forth and holding him close.

Nobody quite noticed when Phantom slipped away. The police officers swore that he vanished from plain sight – which was possible but not quite true. They were just too busy looking to make sure the boy was okay to watch when the ghost flew up into the sky and away from them. But when it became clear the ghost-boy was gone, everyone huddled around the frightened child.

As it so happened, Jeremiah took that moment to peer over his mother's shoulder and through the gap between his teacher's and his father's shoulders. Everybody else was so intent on the young, scared boy that they didn't notice what happened next. The only person to witness it was Jeremiah, watching the scene from between the shoulders of the two adults with wide, tear-filled eyes.

Phantom drifted back to the ground not even a block away from them, stumbling slightly when he landed, and collapsed to his knees. Moments later, a ring of brilliant light appeared around the ghost-hero's waist, transforming the young ghost into something else. A boy with black hair, blue eyes… and human.

Jeremiah buried his head back into his mother's shoulder just as the now-human Phantom glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the huddled group had witnessed his unexpected transformation. Phantom pushed himself to his feet and, with a shake of his head, wandered down the street towards his home.

That night, after young Jeremiah had been fussed over by the best hospitals and psychiatric staff the city of Amity Park could provide, and after hours of coddling by his parents, he was finally left alone long enough to pull his secret notebooks out from under his bed. He propped his foot – complete with three broken toes and a sprained ankle – up on a pillow. With shaking fingers, he opened the books and traced his fingers over the newspaper clippings, drawings, and scribbled pictures, his mind full of images from his terrifying afternoon. Some children, after having been through what he did, would push away anything that would remind them of what happened.

But Jeremiah Higgins was an unusual child. Instead of pushing things away, he pulled them closer. His nose inches from the book, he studied the grainy pictures of the ghost that had saved his life, his mind overflowing with images, memories, and thoughts… more filled than it ever had been in his six years of life. Then he grabbed his box of crayons and set about drawing a few two pictures to add to his collection.

One was of a boy with black hair and blue eyes, a white t-shirt, and jeans.

The other was of Phantom with the ring of brilliant light around his waist.

Jeremiah smiled. "It's a secret," he whispered, a promise to his hero. A promise he fully expected to keep forever.

* * *

Uploaded May 2, 2008  
A chance to do a bit of OC designing... how'd I do?  
Thanks for reading!


	89. Abcdef Ghi

_Um... someone asked me to post this. XD_

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**

**Abcdef Ghi  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

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"**A**bsolutely  
**b**ogus,"  
**c**ried  
**D**anny, not  
**e**asily  
**f**acing the  
**g**hastly  
**h**orrors.  
"**I**'m  
**j**ust…"

"_**K**ITES?!_"  
**l**aughing  
**m**anically  
**n**ow at the  
**o**verhead  
**p**risms,  
**Q**ueen  
**R**oyale  
'**S**am'  
(**t**oothpick-twirling-  
**u**surper and  
**v**egan-Extraordinaire)  
**w**atched  
e**x**citedly as the  
**y**ellow,  
**z**ebra-striped,  
**a**nd  
**b**ouncing  
**c**ubes  
**d**anced  
**e**ven higher.

"**F**enton  
**G**host  
**H**unting Kites…"  
**i**nterrupted  
**J**ack  
**k**indly.

"**L**isten!"  
**M**addie  
**n**oted,  
**o**verhearing  
**p**eople  
**q**ueuing at the  
**r**acetrack  
**s**creaming  
**t**raumatically,  
"**u**ndeserving  
**v**ictims!"

"**W**hy  
e**x**actly…" Danny  
**y**elled  
**z**ealously  
**a**s the  
**b**izarre  
**c**ouple  
**d**ashed  
**e**ven  
**f**arther away.  
"**G**host  
**h**unting  
**i**nventions in  
**J**apanese  
**k**ites," he  
**l**oudly  
**m**uttered,  
"**n**obody  
**o**ver at the  
**p**ark…"

"**Q**uick question…"  
**r**egal  
**S**am  
**t**ried to  
**u**tter, but the  
**v**ery  
**w**orried and  
e**x**tremely  
**y**oung hero  
**z**ipped off.  


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Uploaded May 7, 2008  
Sorry... partly a challenge by a friend, partly due to the fact that I'm sick.  
Thanks for reading!


	90. A World Tipped on its Head

_Warnings for confused backwardsness and a menacing Lancer. Trust me and read to the end - it's (probably) not what you think!_

* * *

**A World Tipped on its Head**  
A Danny (Phantom) FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny trotted down the street with a long-suffering sigh, his eyes fixed on the school and his breath rasping in his throat. He was, once again, late for school. "Stupid alarm clock," he muttered under his breath as he picked up the pace. He didn't _enjoy_ school - far from it, infact - but he didn't want to be late.

"Need a lift?"

Covering his anxious flinch at the unexpected voice, Danny glanced over his shoulder when Sam melted into view. She was in her ghost form, hovering at about eye level, her glowing violet eyes sparkling with dark humor. "No," Danny said as he tried to get his tiring legs to pick up the pace. He breathed a small sigh of relief that it was Sam that found him rather than Tucker. He knew that she – unlike Tucker – wouldn't flaunt those annoying ghost powers by picking him up and carrying him to school against his will.

Sam blinked at him for a moment, hesitating and letting him get a few dozen feet ahead of her, before she nodded and drifted towards the ground. As her feet touched the ground, a swirl of supernatural energy blazed around her. She ran a hand through her black, now-human hair, straightened her clothes, and then sprinted to catch up to her best friend.

"You're going to be late for school," Danny panted, suppressing a grin as she pulled even with him.

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "I can outrun you any day of the week."

Danny rolled his eyes and fought down the retort that was on his lips. If Sam chose to run next to him and be late to school because of it… who was he to argue? He just sent her a lopsided, totally human grin and tried to keep up.

* * *

They _almost_ made it. Danny skidded to a crashing halt in front of his locker, whirling the combination lock, just as the bell rang to signal the fact that he was officially late for his first class. Danny jumped in surprise at the loud bell, losing track of how many left-turns and right-turns he'd done to get his locker open. Sam, who could simply reach through her locker to get the materials she needed, already had her books in hand for her first period class. She drifted back across the hallway, fixing a Goth-inspired scowl on her face, and slumped against the lockers next to Danny. "We're late," she said unnecessarily.

"I got that," Danny said through gritted teeth, frustrated at having to start the combination over. Fourteen to the left… now go right… past the zero… stop at thirty-eight… now left to…

"Mr. Fenton! Ms. Manson!"

Danny nearly levitated at the second unexpected voice of the morning. He spun around, losing his place in his combination again, and stared into the seemingly empty hallway. It _wasn't_ empty, Danny knew. The resident half-ghost vice-principal had to be floating invisibly in the hallway. Danny fixed his gaze on the spot he guessed his least-favorite teacher would appear and struggled to contain the sigh that wanted to get out of him. This would mean _another_ detention.

True to Danny's thoughts, the overweight teacher appeared just a moment later, his eyes blazing a furious red. "Late for school again!" he scoffed noisily, pulling out a small book to note their names. "I expected better from you, Ms. Mason."

"I felt like running," Sam muttered darkly, her arms still crossed and her body slumped against the lockers.

"Such potential in you," the teacher continued as he finished jotting their names, "it never fails to surprise me that a child from parents like _yours_ doesn't flourish in a modern school setting."

Sam's eyes narrowed. She'd recently decided that the vice-principal was an evil, world-destroying menace… and thus he was subject to suffering her Gothic wrath. "I take that as a compliment," she said, dripping her voice with dramatic uncaring.

Danny just stood quietly as the teacher looked up from his book to fix her with a glare, unwilling to get involved in an argument between the two halfas. Not being half-ghost like them, he couldn't _quite_ bring himself to throw his body into a situation that could get him killed. He'd be squashed like a bug by either one of them – and probably neither would notice. Sam was normally very considerate of the difference in power between them, but when her ghost side was riled up like it was now… it was safer to stay quiet and _far_ away.

Lancer broke the staring contest first, switching his gaze to Danny. "And _you_, Mr. Fenton. Although I'm not sure what to expect out of a mere _human_," the teacher paused for a moment like that was some sort of dirty word, "I still expect you to be to school on time. Detention for you, and I hope you learn your place in our world _someday_. Ms. Manson, get to class."

As the teacher faded back into invisibility, Danny took a deep breath and noticed – for the first time – that his hands were clenched into fists. He _hated_ the fact that he got more detentions that any other student in the school. It was, most likely, because he was the only _human_ in the school. It was against the law to discriminate by age, race, or gender… but species wasn't on the list. "Excellent," Danny muttered.

"Come on, Danny," Sam said after a moment, her voice tense and her eyes still flaring with violet light every few seconds, "let's get to class before _you_ get in trouble again." Emphasizing the 'you', she half-smiled and nudged him with an elbow.

"What's on the list of torture for today?" Danny asked sourly as he turned around to spin the combination on his lock for the third time – this time determined to not get distracted.

"Twenty _new _reasons to stare at the sole human on the planet, either in distraught pity or in discriminatory frustrated anger," Sam said with a half-hearted and understanding smile, "also known as another biased English lesson on the twenty greatest halfa authors of all time, making doubly sure to ignore and/or taunt the _human_ greats such as Shakespeare, Melville, and Doyle."

Danny let the sigh that had been building up inside of him out with a gust of air as his locker _finally_ opened. "_Great._"

"You gonna skip again? I'm sure Tucker will record the whole lesson for you to watch later."

"No," Danny shook his head. "Ever since Lancer figured out how to duplicate, you can't hide from him. He can be teaching his lesson _and_ hunting you down at the same time. Skulker's got nothing on Lancer. Skipping is just too much work now."

"To class?" she asked.

Danny, after hesitating one last second to slam his locker shut, took a deep breath and nodded. "To class."

* * *

"… and that is the main reason why Arthur Prachet far surpassed his human counterpart during that era. Also a major player in the rise of Prachet's work was the fact that Shakespeare's answer to Prachet's novel rhyme-scheme, the insufficiently thought-out and frankly _annoying_ iambic pentameter, never seemed to catch on. The fact that only two of the human's works survive to this day is surely a testament to how dreary and drawn-out the _human_ culture had gotten by that point in history."

Danny tuned out the teacher and sighed, fixing his eyes on the white board behind the vaguely-transparent educator. He picked up his pencil long enough to make a little tally on the top of his paper (the forty-eighth of the day) and quietly set the pencil back down. This particular teacher wouldn't get on him for not taking notes in class – he actually seemed happiest when Danny did absolutely nothing – and Danny jumped at the chance to not have to note down every detail of the lesson. His English notebook was full of white pages, marred only by a series of tally marks at the top of each page.

When the teacher managed to fit yet _another_ slur against the human species into his lecture, Danny quietly added another tally to his page and wondered how many more the halfa could get into one class. Up to this point, the record had been fifty-three. With nearly fifteen minutes of class left, that record seemed destined to be shredded.

_Really_, Danny muttered in his mind as his eyes drifted towards the windows, still contemplating all the slurs made against the human species and against him in particular, _both of my parents are halfas. My whole family is halfas. Doesn't that mean I am one too… kind of? I don't have any powers, sure, but that doesn't make me human._ Even in his own mind, Danny could hear the word 'human' taking on the negative connotations that went with it. _If two dogs have a puppy that looks like a kitten, it's still a dog no matter what it looks like or can do. _He slumped a bit down in his seat, making another tally on his paper. He hadn't been listening, but he was sure the teacher had gotten in another snide comment about humans by now, merely because Danny was in the room. _I wish…_

A wadded up piece of paper whapped against his head and Danny jerked out of his thoughts, sending a glare at the offending piece of paper. He unwrinkled it and quickly read the scrawled words – _Betcha wish you coulda phased through that_ – before raising his head to fix Dash with a scowl. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to listen to the teacher drone on and on about how _wonderful_ ghost powers were every moment of this stupid class, he had to take it from the students as well.

Dash grinned, his eyes flashing a menacing red as he ripped another piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled a note on it. Crinkling it into a ball, the jock lobbed it through the air. Danny was torn between catching the stupid thing to find out what threat was on it or batting it off into a corner. He ended up getting to do neither: a ball of violet light slammed into the paper projectile, turning it into illegible ashes.

"Hey!" Dash called out, his eyes glowing darkly as he looked for the creator of the ectoblast. Both Dash's and Danny's eyes found Sam at the same time as she lounged in the back of the class, curls of violet energy still writhing around her raised hand. "You stupid-"

"No energy manipulation in this classroom!" the teacher called out. "Fenton, detention!"

Danny's head whipped around. "What for?!"

"Stop instigating my class." The teacher's eyes flared an angry red.

"But…" Danny cut off his retort, but not soon enough. Energy sparkled into existence around the furious half-ghost teacher. Danny slunk out of his chair and beat a retreat from the room before the teacher lost control of his ghost side and the situation got worse. Scooping up his notebook, Danny noted that there were fifty-two tallies on the page. As he slipped out of the room and headed for the office, Danny felt a small pang of disappointment. The record for number of human slurs in one class would remain unbroken.

* * *

"Danny, sweetie," his mother said when he finally made it home from the day from hell, pushing her goggles up on her forehead, "it's not your fault. There's _nothing_ wrong with you."

"Did you notice that I got _another_ detention today, Mom," he groaned as he dropped into a chair down in his parents' basement lab, "or did you just figure that school lasted until four rather than letting out at three like it used to? And I didn't do anything wrong!"

Maddie smiled. "You'll get your powers eventually, honey. Slow development runs in your father's side of the family, you know. Jack didn't get his powers until he was eleven…"

"_I'm fifteen_," Danny scowled.

"Which isn't unheard of," Maddie lied smoothly. "You're a Fenton."

Danny rolled his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You come from a long line of powerful half-ghosts. Before you know it, you'll wake up and you'll be just like your great-grandfather, the…"

"…great halfa explorer who helped conquer the new world from the human barbarians," Danny finished dully. The two of them had gone through this exact conversation dozens of times. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might _never_ get ghost powers?"

She blinked at him. "Of course you'll get your powers. You just need to think positively."

"Yeah," Danny said sourly.

"In the mean time, look at this." Maddie's eyes glowed as she picked up her latest device. "It's called the 'Fenton Human Hearer'." She set it into Danny's hands with a grin. "Jack and I _know_ that there are pockets of humans left in this world. If we ever find one, this will turn their incomprehensible mutterings into something we can understand!"

Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Don't they speak English?"

The machine whirred for a moment. "_Don't they speak English fear me."_

Both Danny and Maddie stared at the small machine. With a small shrug, Maddie picked it out of her son's hands. "I've never met a true human. I wouldn't know."

"I don't count?" Danny asked softly.

"You'll get your powers. You're a halfa – a Fenton."

He nodded quietly, watching as she put the 'Human Hearer' up on a shelf and started to straighten up her side of the lab. Around the cramped basement, new pieces of technology appeared and disappeared on a daily basis. The highly controversial 'Fenton Thermos' was nowhere to be seen, but the glowing circle of light that was his parents' first attempt at making a stable ghost portal was still up and running. Danny had thought that would be gone quickly – snapped up by the highest bidder.

Maddie picked up a small, strange-looking necklace and studied it for a moment. "Where did…" she murmured before shaking her head. "I wish Jack would tell me when he gets new things. Danny, can you put this on Jack's workbench?"

Nodding, Danny slipped out of the chair and took the necklace from her, turning to head towards the messier side of the lab. But just as her fingers slipped from the chain, a surge of energy flooded around the lab. Maddie twisted around, her eyes widening in surprise and fear, just before a blindingly white light wrapped around Danny.

He screamed in terror, feeling the energy ripping at his body, and clutched the strange-looking necklace to him just before he passed out.

* * *

When Danny opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the violet-colored irises of his best friend. "Danny?" she gasped, her eyes widening. "Are you alright?" Then she hesitated and grinned. "Sorry, standard question."

"I think so," Danny breathed, arching his back a little and feeling his muscles ache from all the energy that had blasted through him. "What happened?"

"Not sure," Tucker put in, "but I bet it was the Nasty Burger you ate. I _told_ you it didn't taste right."

"Nasty Burger?" Danny asked, wondering what _that_ could be. It didn't sound good. "What…" he trailed off his question as he noticed something odd. Odder than the fact that both his friends were standing over him; he was… outside.

He jerked into a sitting position, staring around. He was at the park. "Where…" He couldn't finish the sentence, too confused by what was going on. One moment he was in his parents' lab, then there was that blinding blast of energy, then he was _outside_? What was going on?

"Yup." Tucker stretched his arms over his head. "Are you fine or do you need to go home?"

"Tucker," Sam scolded, "he just collapsed for no reason. Of _course_ he's not fine."

"You know how fast he heals," Tucker muttered, "just because he fainted doesn't mean that he can't go to the movie. I figured I might as well ask before I wrote off _all_ of our plans for the day."

"I'm…" Danny hesitated, not sure if he _was_ fine or not. Something was obviously wrong – he couldn't remember how he'd gotten to the park. And what had happened down in his parents' lab? Was he missing a chunk of his memory or something? "I think…"

Sam nodded decisively. "He's going home."

"But it's _Dead Teacher Eleven_," Tucker moaned, "the not-to-miss continuance of the blood and guts nonsense of _Dead Teacher Ten_. You've read the reviews - we can't miss it!"

Danny tried to push himself to his feet, but his muscles were still too sore from the flood of white-hot energy to hold his weight. When he started to collapse, both Sam and Tucker had to grab his shoulders to help him stay upright. "I think Sam's right," Danny said softly.

Tucker looked at him, concern sparkling in his eyes. "You're _voluntarily_ going home? Should I call 9-1-1?"

"So what?" Danny argued, frustration boiling over after the day from hell combined with this utterly confusing situation, "So I'm not as strong as you. Leave off."

Tucker blinked and tipped his head. "What?"

Danny took a few steps towards home, Sam and Tucker moving to keep pace with him. Internally, Danny was wrestling with the idea of asking Sam or Tucker to just fly him home. His legs kept threatening to collapse on him and his head was really starting to hurt. This whole situation was rapidly getting worse. But he'd _never_ asked for someone to help him before… not even Sam and Tucker.

"Danny…" Sam breathed, suddenly pulling up short and causing Danny – who was still using her to keep himself from falling over – to stumble.

"What?" he asked.

"The Box Ghost," Tucker finished, pointing helpfully towards the blue specter.

Danny wondered for a moment how the annoying spirit had gotten out of the Ghost Zone, then stared in disbelief as the people in the area ran away from the ghost. Any one of them could have taken out the weak Box Ghost without a second thought… but they were… _running_? What in the world…

"Are you going to do something?" Sam asked.

"Me?" Danny mumbled, his brain still refusing to wrap around the image of that many powerful halfas running away from the _Box Ghost._

"Who else?" Tucker added with a shrug. "You're the halfa."

Danny collapsed to his knees, staring up at his two friends. A halfa? "_ME?!"_

* * *

_Meanwhile, back in that other universe…_

Danny's eyes flickered open, his gaze filled with the sight of his mother leaning down over him. "Oh, Danny! Are you okay?" She pressed a cool washrag against his forehead as he lay on the couch in the living room.

"What happened?" Danny moaned.

"What do you remember, sweetie?"

"I was in the park with Sam and Tucker," he answered, his head starting to pound as he struggled to put together his memories of what had happened. "There was this bright light… and then I woke up here?"

Maddie clicked her tongue sympathetically, brushing a lock of his hair out of his eyes. "You must have lost a bit of your memory from the accident. You made it all the way home – you and I were down in the lab. There was an accident and you got shocked."

"Makes sense," Danny muttered, knowing just how much his parents' technology 'liked' him. It didn't help that he was a half-ghost living with a pair of ghost hunters.

"You're going to stay home from school tomorrow," Maddie continued in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm not going to let you take any more of that bullying after a shock like that."

Danny raised an eyebrow, wondering at that. He never told his mom about Dash… had Jazz? "Okay," he said – any actual excuse to get out of school was good enough for him. Maybe the ghosts would leave him alone and he'd get some sleep for once. He'd deal with the repercussions of his parents learning about Dash some other time.

"I'm sure you've got a headache, sweetheart." At his nod, she got up. "I'll get you some aspirin and you can take a nap. If it doesn't go away, we'll take you in to see the doctor tomorrow."

Danny nodded, closing his eyes and lying back against the cushions of the couch. He hurt all over for some reason; all of his muscles tingled and were tight. "I wonder what invention got me this time," he whispered to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.

When his mother came back, she handed him two aspirin and a glass of water. "Thanks," he said, then swallowed the pills.

"You're welcome, Danny." She smiled at him and covered him up with a blanket. "Just lay here and get some rest. And don't worry about your ghost powers… you'll get them soon."

Danny's mind went blank. Ghost powers? His mouth moved without thought as he sat up and stared at his mother with wide eyes. "_WHAT?!"_

* * *

Uploaded May 24, 2008  
Sorry... I had to do an alternating universe story eventually... maybe to be continued...  
Thanks for reading!


	91. May Madness

_Originally posted on DA, cleaned up and moved here for safe keeping._

* * *

**May Madness**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Tucker yawned and stretched, his joints cracking softly. He'd just spent the last four hours curled up on the couch, having lost his room (and his bed) to an annoying younger cousin with 'back problems'. "Yeah, right," Tucker grumbled sourly, rubbing his eyes and fishing for his glasses in the dark, "_I'm_ going to be the one with back problems after this."

He stumbled through the shadowed room, heading for the kitchen, still fighting back a yawn. Blinking blearily at the bright clock on the stove, he shook his head and quietly found a glass for some water. "Freaking two in the morning and I haven't slept a wink," he mumbled, "stupid couch." The water was cold against his throat as he stood in the kitchen and drank down the entire glass in a few gulps.

"I could understand it if it were a ghost attack and Danny had dragged me out of bed. At least he'd apologize later... probably..." Refilling the glass with water, Tucker took a few normal-sized mouthfuls of water and sighed. "Erin's not going to apologize for the lack of sleep _ever_." He turned around to lean his elbows against the counter top, staring sleepily out the window into his family's small back yard and yawing again. "I just want to..."

He blinked. "What the..." Setting the water cup down on the counter, Tucker leaned closer to the window, his nose pressed against the cold glass, and squinted into the dim light that was cascading into their yard. "It can't be..." It looked like something was falling out of the sky. It was falling too slowly to be rain, and too softly to be hail or sleet or something. "But it's the middle of _May_!" he exclaimed, just a bit too loudly for two in the morning. The slight feeling of guilt vanished as soon as he realized the only person he'd have a chance of waking up was his bed-stealing cousin.

Pushing away from the counter, he slipped through the dark kitchen and unlocked the back door, pulling it open and stepping out into the chilly night. "It's not cold enough for snow," he whispered, holding out a hand and watching in amazement as the fluffy precipitation collected on his palm. He shivered as his breath unexpectedly plumed in the night air. The day temperatures had been well into the seventies, and the forecast for the night hadn't called for a frost - but it was impossibly _cold_. "This is bizarre."

When in Amity Park, 'bizarre' usually meant 'supernatural', and Tucker knew it. He disappeared into his warm house long enough to grab a jacket, cell phone, and shoes before he was back, quietly closing the door behind him. Keeping his eyes trained on the sky for any indication of glowing, floating, or otherwise obsessive ghosts, Tucker tramped out into the middle of the yard and stared up into the sky. He couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean much.

His fingers dialed the number without having to glance down at the keypad of his cell phone. He wedged it between his shoulder and his ear, returning his hands to his relatively warm pockets, and waited for the phone to ring.

"_What?_" Danny snapped, his voice strained and the faint echo apparent even through the bad connection.

Tucker grinned. "It's snowing," he said unnecessarily. Danny's answer had already confirmed his guess: the snow was a ghostly occurrence and Danny was out dealing with the uninvited 'guest'.

"_I know! Since you're up, come help._"

Stretching, his back popping slightly and the last kinks working out of his muscles, Tucker nodded, then realized Danny hadn't seen the gesture. "Sure thing, buddy-ol'-pal-a-mine. Where are you?"

"_The park. By the swings at the moment._" There was a long pause, then the sound of the phone being dropped. "_HEY! Stop that!_"

Tucker hung up the phone, not bothering to say goodbye. The chances of Danny hearing it were slim anyways. Tucker took a short-cut through his house, sneaking up to his room to dig out an ectogun and a spare Thermos before heading out the front door. "I wonder which ghost it is," he murmured, his breath fogging methodically as he jogged up the street towards the park, the snow falling more and more heavily with every block. "Klemper? Frostbite?"

By the time he reached the park a few minutes later, the snow was several inches deep and he had switched from wondering about the attacking ghost to grumbling about the snow that was getting into his shoes, melting, and slowly freezing his ankles and feet. "Stupid cryokinetic spirit. It's _May_ for crying out loud. It's too late in the year for snow."

The eerie glow alerted Tucker to the position of the ghosts long before he could hear or see them. Tucker angled through the trees towards the largest of the three playgrounds. Moments later, he hesitated at the base of one of the tall evergreens. There was Danny, floating a few feet above the ground, his head snapping back and forth as he tried to locate the ghost.

Tucker crouched, pulling out his ectogun, and waited for the ghost to make its appearance. He'd surprise the stupid spirit that had had caused all this horrible snow. As he waited, his feet were slowly losing all feeling due to the snow that kept getting into his shoes. "Darn ghosts."

Suddenly Danny dropped to the ground, scooped something up, and vanished from view. Tucker tensed, the small ectogun whining as it charged. His gaze snapped to Danny's glowing form as he reappeared by the swingset, his hand pulled back to throw...

"A _snowball_?!" Tucker yelped.

Danny's head whipped around to locate him in the darkness. He disappeared after launching the snowball into the trees, landing softly next to his friend. Green eyes glowed impossibly in the dark. "Finally!"

"A snowball fight?" Tucker hissed.

"It's not my idea," Danny answered back softly, already packing another snowball. "Well, it is, kinda... but the fate of the human world rests on the results of this..." he tossed the tightly-packed snowball into the air lightly, "this... battle. Or whatever it's called."

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "You've got to be kidding."

Danny shook his head. "Ghost came through the portal about two hours ago, challenged me to a 'duel' or some such nonsense, then froze my bed into a solid block of ice when I tried to ignore her and sleep. She got to pick the place... so I got to pick the weapons." He smiled a little sheepishly. "It was the least-lethal and scary thing I could think of at midnight after being dragged out of bed."

"Can't you just suck her into a Thermos?"

Danny brightened, packing a third snowball and placing it by his feet. "Did you bring one? According to the 'rules' of this stupid battle, I can't use anything but snowballs to attack her. It's making for a _very_ long fight."

"Or I could just go back to bed," Tucker countered, annoyed now that he realized it was his _best friend_ that had engineered the snowy mess. Then he scowled. "If I had a bed to go back to. Stupid cousins."

"Great!" Danny cheered quietly, picking up all four of the snowballs that had been made. He squinted down at them and, slowly, they all gained a soft, green glow. "I'll get her out in the open, you suck her up, then I'll help you with your bed problem. Deal?"

Tucker snorted, the thought of his warm bed being _his_ against almost making him forget about his frozen feet. "Deal."

With a grin, Tucker's half-ghost best friend melted into the darkness. "Here ghosty-ghosty," Danny called, becoming visible while standing on the top of the swing set. He juggled his glowing snowballs for a moment, picking out two to launch into the darkness in a seemingly random directions.

"Ghosty-ghosty?" a girl's voice called from near where one of the snowballs had landed. "_Ghosty?!_" She sounded like she was trying to not start laughing.

"It's _two in the morning_ Danni!" Danny scowled. "I can't _think_ anymore. Get out here and let's stop this stupid thing."

Tucker hesitated and blinked in confusion when he saw the familiar form of Danny's 'cousin' float out of the trees. "Danielle?" he mouthed into the darkness, shivering at the cold that was flooding off of the tiny ghost girl. "When'd she get cryokenetic powers?" Then he shook his head. "Why in the world is she fighting _Danny_?"

"You agreed to this," the girl scowled back, crossing her arms angrily. "I need to practice."

"You froze my _bed_," Danny shot back, eyes glowing fiercely. "I don't care if you were ' practicing' or not! You've got to leave a guy alone when he's sleeping."

"Fine. Go back to bed," Danni snapped. "I'll find someone else to practice with. _Cousin._"

Danny launched another one of his glowing snowballs at the smaller ghost-girl. "Tucker!" he called out.

Tucker rolled his eyes and decided to just go with it. He'd take care of the consequences of sucking the young half-ghost into the Thermos later. Stepping out of the shadows and into the play area, he aimed the Thermos up into the air and pressed the button. Danni whirled around, her glowing eyes wide as she spotted the swirling swatch of blue.

Then she was gone.

Tucker yawned and shot his best friend a sleepy glare as the young man dropped into the snow beside him. "'Fate of the human world?'" he asked sourly.

"Coulda been," Danny answered. "If I had to go another night without sleep, I had decided that I was going to turn evil, block all the light from the sun - which would plunge the world into an ice age - just so I could get a day off of school to get some sleep. See? Fate of the human world."

"She's going to kill you when she gets out." Tucker held up the Thermos.

Danny yawned, turning back human in a flash of light and shivering in the cold night air. "She can try, but I'm not letting her out until my bed thaws and I get some sleep." Taking the Thermos from Tucker, he looked up into the sky. "How long do you think it's going to snow?"

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "You didn't do this?"

Shaking his head, Danny said, "Danni did." They set off through the park, their shoes crunching in the snow. "If it snows long enough," Danny muttered as they stepped onto the street, "we might get a snow day tomorrow."

Both boys glanced at each other. "Sleep!" they cheered together. Then Tucker grinned. "If only we could get our annoying cousins to let us sleep in our own beds."

Danny sighed, picturing his own bed - which had been a solid block of ice when he left his room two hours previously. "If only..." There wasn't going to be any way that he would get his bed thawed, dried, and warm before it was time to get up.

Tucker hesitated in front of a huge house, chewing his lip for a moment before glancing at his watch. 2:30am. It really wasn't worth kicking Erin out of bed any more. But he just wasn't going to get any sleep on the couch... "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, a grin splitting his face.

Arching one eyebrow, Danny glanced up at the house Tucker was gazing at. "Niiiice," Danny drawled, grinning up at the dark windows of Sam's house. "So should we wake her up or just steal the spare bedroom."

"Wake her up, of course," Tucker grinned a bit evilly as he created a small snowball to toss at his now-sleeping friend. "We're both frozen solid and tired, she can join us."

* * *

Uploaded June 10, 2008  
Evil. I wrote this in May while complaining about the snow that was falling.  
Thanks for reading!


	92. Polygraph

_Kinda long, ends kinda weird... and has gone through so many revisions it's not really the same story it started out to be..._

_I wash my hands of this. Finally. _

_In other news, I'm only a handful of hits away from 100,000 hits for this story. XD And I'd REALLY love to hit 1,500 reviews..._

* * *

**Polygraph**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_"WHAT on EARTH are you DOING?"_

I flinched reflexively at the venom in my mother's voice before relaxing and letting a smile cross my face. _Finally – rescue._

"Ma'am, official government business, please stand back," one of the steroid-pumped men stated in a bored tone.

"That's my _son _and I won't be _standing back!_" she seethed, glaring at the men that were milling around me. Her eyes dropped to meet mine for a moment and I sent her a small smile and the best wave I could manage with my arm strapped to the chair, choosing to remain silent in the face of her wrath. "Let him go. _Now_."

"Mrs. Fenton," the man dressed in a shockingly white suit mumbled in surprise, "he's got some information…"

I watched her eyes flash and her fists clench, inwardly wincing and feeling a short moment of pity for the jerks in white. My mother was the most loving and caring and gentle person in Amity Park… but she was also a seventh level black belt in four different forms of martial arts and was busily working on her fifth. Getting in between her and her children was not a particularly smart thing to do. "Let. Him. Go," she snarled, interrupting whatever the man was saying.

"Ma'am, please remain calm," another one of the overly muscled men rumbled, stepping forwards and bravely (or idiotically, depending on your point of view) blocking her way.

Mom reached into one of the pouches of her jumpsuit and yanked out a short stick. A moment later it had extended into a full-size plasma staff that I knew from experience would leave nasty, burning welts. "I will _not_ remain calm while my child is wired up to who-knows-what," she snapped as one end of the plasma staff came up to point threateningly at the nose of one of the government agents.

The man sitting beside me, slimmer and older than his muscular counterparts, sighed and swept himself to his feet. He pushed his thick glasses up to the top of his pointed nose and coughed in a wet and painful sounding way. "May I explain before you beat up my colleagues?" he said. Stepping away from the strange-looking machine he'd strapped me up to, he spread his hands and sent Mom a smile. "I assure you, your son is in no danger."

I watched Mom's tense fighting stance loosen slightly, but her staff never wavered. "Explain," she snapped, "quickly." She glanced at me again and I smiled at her again. The smile faded quickly, however. Truth be told, I wasn't very happy about the situation I'd gotten myself into. Mom showing up to rescue me was an excellent and _extremely_ lucky turn of events – a twist of fate that I'm sure I'll have to pay karma back for later. At that particular moment in time, I had no particular thoughts on how to get myself out of this thing I'd gotten talked into doing. Mom could do all the rescuing she wanted.

"You see, we've been following young Daniel around for the past few weeks…"

"_What?"_ I winced at the pure fury in her voice.

The older man coughed and smiled in a way I assume he thought would be soothing (but was as far from it as possible), "Please, Mrs. Fenton, if you can't control yourself I won't be able to explain."

My eyes narrowed a little at the belittling tone of the man's voice, but I didn't dare do anything since I wasn't totally positive I knew what I was connected to. Something to do with elecro-dermal activity and blood pressure… and knowing the government branch these idiots came from, I'm sure it had something to do with ghosts as well. Letting even the slightest wisp of ectoplasm loose might set off all sorts of sensors.

"Talk," Mom said darkly.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, ma'am," he said condescendingly, "we've been watching Daniel for the past few weeks as part of a program that we've set up here in Amity Park. A handful of children were chosen based on several characteristics that have to do with supernatural activities – I believe we told you about it. It's really for the children's protection in the end. But we became more and more interested in Daniel here as time went on." The man grinned. "Some _interesting _things were happening in his presence."

I sank back in my chair and tried not to sigh. The convoluted factoid-filled, spiel that was sure to follow was what had confused me enough to get me into this situation in the first place. I didn't really want to listen to it again.

"We detected a notable increase in ambient ectoenergy whenever he was around our sensors. It's a significant increase – nearly twenty percent above the average person. Also, there's the oddity of just how many ghosts he runs into on a weekly bases. He is more than forty-five percent more likely to be involved in a ghost attack than any other person we have been tracking."

I watched Mom blink as her grip on her staff loosened visibly. With a wrinkled forehead, she glanced at me before returning her slightly-less-hostile gaze to the slim man in white. I tapped my fingers against the arm of the chair I was strapped to and rolled my eyes. _I always knew I'd be doomed by math_.

"We do understand," the man continued, "that your son is the child of two prominent ghost hunters and his odds that he would be a target for ghosts is increased… that was one of the reasons why he was picked in the first place. But that does not explain the last bit of information we noted." He paused dramatically, watching my mom's face closely. "We've been keeping track of sightings of Inviso-Bill. Your son and his two friends have been seen in the vicinity of the ghost-boy on _eight-six_ occurrences over the past three weeks. That's more than twenty _times_ more than any other person we've been recording."

Mom's gaze drifted to me, blinking in confusion. Those were some pretty damning facts and I knew it. Even if she got me out of this machine I'd have _lots_ of questions to answer. "What's he strapped to and why?" she asked, her voice having lost most of the venom it had possessed earlier.

"Simple," the man stated, turning back to the machine with a wide gesture. The chair I was strapped into was covered in blinking lights, buttons, and wires – a few of the wires ending in suction cups that had been stuck unceremoniously to my temples. A weird-looking glove was covering one of my hands, bristling with wires that trailed to a box sitting on a small folding table next to the chair. "This," he grinned, "is a polygraph."

I couldn't contain the snort at his answer. _I'm strapped to a lie detector?_ I had been desperately trying to figure out what kind of torture device worked on 'electo-dermal activity'. _Of all the stupid machines…_

His eyes glittered happily and his glasses slipped back down his nose as he talked. He pushed them back up his pointed noise. "It's powered by the latest spectral energy technology, actually pulling ecto-energy out the air and converting it to DC power. This machine has got a proven ninety-seven percent accuracy rate at detecting deceptive behaviors. Even better, it works on _both_ humans and ghosts – we even took the extra step of making the chair and straps phase-proof just in case we ever catch a ghost to put in it."

_There goes one escape plan…_ I glanced at the older Guy in White before shifting my gaze to my mom, shaking my head slightly when I saw the growing enthusiasm on my mom's face. She was very protective… but she did love her ghost technology. In the end, I trust her though. She's got her priorities straight; she'd pick me over some silly spectral lie detector.

I was about ninety-three percent sure.

"I promise you, ma'am," he finished with a flourish, "your son is in no danger."

Mom nodded, lowering her staff the rest of the way. She was staring at the polygraph machine with an almost open envy, but when she spoke, her tone was still weary and tense. "You have yet to tell me why my child is strapped into a government polygraph machine without my knowledge or permission."

"We believe he was information regarding the ghost known as Inviso-Bill."

"He's a minor," she shot back. "It's doesn't matter if he has information. Let him go before I call the police to _make_ you let him go."

The man coughed again, wet and painful. Pulling out an official-looking paper, he handed it to my mother. "Actually, we have carte-blanch permission to do these tests without parental permission. It's a matter of national security. Ghostly terrorists and such, you know."

Snatching the paper out of her hands, I could hear my mother muttering dark threats about the government and the recently updated Patriot Act. "Fine, whatever," she said softly, throwing the paper back at the slim man. "But I'm standing right next to him and the _second_ he says he's in any pain _what-so-ever_ he will be removed from that machine. Whether or not your machine survives will be up to you." She gazed into his eyes. "Are we clear?"

"Yes," the man said, settling back down into his chair as my mother snapped off her plasma staff. "He's in no danger. Ghosts would find this thing uncomfortable, but humans won't feel a thing."

"What's it do to ghosts?" I asked, speaking for the first time since my mom had shown up.

Pushing his thick glasses back up his nose, the man grinned at me. "It's programmed to shock them if they lie. But you won't have to worry about it – it only reacts around high levels of active ectoplasm." After a few moments of silence while he fiddled with some of the knobs on his box, he asked, "You ready?"

"Shoot," I muttered.

He flipped some switches and the box whirred to life. "We need to calibrate the machine. I'm going to ask you some questions and I'd like you to answer them correctly." He grinned at me. "Is your name Daniel Fenton?"

"Yes."

"You're fifteen?"

"Yes."

The man's grin grew as he stared at his little box and was quiet for a minute. I was wondering what it was telling him when he spoke again, shaking me out of my thoughts. "Perfect, perfect Daniel. Now I'd like you to lie a few times. Do you go to Ghost Zone High?"

"Yes." _Zap. _A sudden sharp pain ripped through my arm, a yelp of pain sneaking out of my mouth and I jerked my arm against the strap holding it to the chair. Mom tensed and took a step forward.

"Stop it, Daniel," the old man snapped, "you didn't feel anything; stop playing around. Now – is your best friend named Tucker Foley?"

I hesitated before answering, bracing myself for the shock that I was sure was going to zap up my arm. I _shouldn't_ be able to feel the shocks and I didn't want the jerk in white to know that I _could_. It would raise too many questions. "No." _Zap._

"Good, good," the man smiled. "We've got it. Now onto the questions. You ready?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I say no do I get to leave?"

"Nope," he said cheerily. "I'm going to get my answers one way or the other. May I remind you about my court order and the implications of the data that we have already collected?"

Mom was close enough to place her hand on my shoulder. "Are you threatening my son?"

"Of course not. Just reminding him that I'll get the information anyways."

"Just ask," I muttered darkly, my mind spinning. There wasn't any way that I could keep up the lies for any length of time – I wouldn't be able to keep hiding the flinches from the shocks, especially with my mom's hand on my shoulder. I'd have to tell them as much of the truth as I could and cross my fingers that this would go okay.

"Have you heard of the ghost called Inviso-Bill?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "who hasn't? And I believe his actual name is Phantom." Beside me, Mom squeezed my shoulder gently.

The man studied the computer screen closely for a moment. "Have you ever seen him?"

"Yeah. Again, who hasn't? He's all over the town."

"Recently – in the past few days?"

"Yes," I said with a small glare, "there was a ghost attack at the school _this morning_. You were there. So was I." _You shot at me, jerk, right after I saved you from death by goop. You're so welcome._

He glanced up, piercing me with his dark gaze. "Do you know why Inviso-Bill is seen around you so often?"

I froze, listening to the soft whine of the polygraph box and feeling sweat forming on my hands. "Um…" If I answered 'yes' – which was true – than I'd have to explain _how_ and that wasn't ever going to work. But if I said 'no' the machine would be able to tell I was lying and I'd have to explain anyways…

Oh wait – I had an idea. Paulina was going to come in handy for once. But this was _so_ going to come back and bite me later.

Mom's hand squeezed my shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. Just tell him the truth."

Looking up, I gazed straight at my mother as I answered the man's question. I could feel her warmth and love in the small smile she gave me. "Yes, I know why," I whispered. I didn't wait for the guy at the machine to ask me to explain or to ask me any more questions; I barely even noticed that he was there. This was a small confession from me to my mom and I had no room for him while I said it. "He's my friend."

Mom blinked, her hand tightening reflexively on my shoulder and a startled look on her face. I could almost see pieces sliding into place as understanding and acceptance bloomed in her eyes.

I harshly squashed down a strong bloom of guilt at that. Here I was, strapped into a freaking lie detecting machine, my mother thinking I was telling her the 'big secret' I'd been hiding from her for over a year, and I was _still_ lying through my teeth. I was going to rot in Hell for all of eternity for this.

"You can't be friends with a ghost," the man scoffed, staring down at his machine in bafflement. Being that I hadn't gotten zapped, I assumed the box was informing him that I had just told him the truth – or close enough to it, anyway.

"If you don't like my answers, get me out of this thing," I snapped back, sending him a world-class death glare (minus the eerily glowing green eyes).

Glancing up at me, the man arched an eyebrow over his sliding glasses. "You realize Inviso-Bill is a dangerous entity that has done hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage to public and private property."

"Yes," I bristled, "I realize he's dangerous – but very little of all that is _his fault_. Even if he _is_ dangerous, he's not evil or mean. Besides, he's never strapped me into random machines like _some_ people I know." _You, Vlad, my parents, Valerie, Skulker, Technus… _

The man drummed his fingers on the top of his machine as I rattled off names in my head, silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was with a deliberate slowness. "Do you know where Phantom's lair is?"

Mom's hand squeezed my shoulder for a moment. "He doesn't have to answer that," she said when I opened my mouth. I snapped my mouth back shut and glanced up at her, wondering what she was getting at. _Why_ didn't I have to answer that question?

"Why not?" the jerk asked for me.

"Phantom's his friend. You can't ask him to give away the ghost's secrets."

I was floored by that simple sentence. Coming from the mouth of the queen of 'destroy all ghosts,' that really meant something. My mom was… protecting Phantom. Me. And just because I said I was his friend. I hastily renewed my vow to not forget Mother's Day again next year.

Of course, none of this helped the rampant guilt that was still swirling around inside me.

"I can ask and he will tell. I have a court order-"

Mom interrupted him. "That states very clearly that you can put him in this thing and you can ask him all the questions you want. It never says he's required to answer." She patted my shoulder. "Danny's too good a friend to give away his friends' secrets just because some government official asked."

The old man narrowed his eyes. "You realize that your precious son appears to have been lying to you for over a year about who his friends are and his whereabouts."

"And _you_ realize," Mom said coolly, "that I can parent however I please and that Danny and I will be talking about _that_ when we get home."

I shuddered; I wasn't looking forward to that talk. That was not going to be a very fun couple of hours. _Especially_ if she found out that I was lying to her about lying to her… I sighed. I was going to be grounded for the rest of my life and _then_ would spend all of eternity rotting in Hell. "Excellent," I breathed.

"Daniel," the idiot in white said, turning his attention back to me and ignoring my mother, "do you consider yourself to be a very good friend of Inviso-Bill?"

"Probably," I answered, squirming a little in my seat at the question. I was treading on pretty thin ground with the idea of Phantom being my 'friend' – I wasn't sure when the polygraph would decide I was finally lying and start shocking me.

He hesitated, glancing up into my mom's eyes before focusing back on me. "And do you know where he goes when he's not… around here?"

"Nope." And that was completely true: I had no idea where my ghost side went when I was human. I really didn't know here my human side went when I was a ghost either. All of the various ideas Tucker had come up with were either too disgusting or too creepy to contemplate. A thought struck me suddenly – what if I could completely tree stump him? If I didn't know anything about any of his questions… would he stop asking them after a while? "And I don't know where his lair is either, to answer your earlier question." Which was technically true - I don't have a lair.

He gritted his teeth and nodded. "What's his biggest weakness?"

I half-grinned, wondering to myself if I could ever pick just _one, _then decided that a non-answer was probably the best route. I took a breath, wrapped myself up in the bravado I'd been perfecting over the past year, and asked, "Why would I know something like that?"

"You're his friend?"

I nodded. "True, but my parents are ghost hunters. Why would any ghost tell _me_ – of all people – what their weaknesses are?" I let a small, fake laugh trickle out of me. "Why would they tell me anything?" _All of which is true_, I told myself fiercely. _Ghosts don't tell me anything... more due to the fact that I'm Phantom than who my parents are... but close enough._

There was a long stretch of frustrated silence coming from the government snowflake.

"Can I go?" I asked.

"One more question," he said slowly, "then you can go." He stared down at the display on his polygraph for a moment.

"Shoot." I winced inwardly at the bad choice of words. Then again, I knew just how bad a shot these men were.

"Oh I intend to," he muttered, then he leaned towards me and raised an eyebrow. "Did you get shocked by this machine earlier?"

The denial was out of my mouth before I could stop and think about what I _should_ have answered. "No." _Zap_. I flinched away from the sharp pain that sizzled up my arm. My mom's hand tensed in surprise and a small gasp of surprise reached my ears. _Crud, crud, crud…_ "Can I go now?"

The man in white leaned back and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Yes, yes you can."

As the other Guys in White released me from the various straps and wires that had held me in place, the older man kept gazing at me. His head tipped slightly to the side, the corners of his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Thanks," I muttered as I finally pushed myself free of the chair.

"No, thank _you_," the man answered softly. "You've given me quite a bit to think about... Danny."

* * *

Uploaded June 11, 2008  
Eech... Fun, fun. Like I said. Sick of messing with the ending.  
Thanks for reading!


	93. Closing Rifts

_So. I read a creepy!Danny story by at-a-glance, then a creepy!Sam story by chaosdragon… and you know what I thought? Poor Tucker. Once again, he's being neglected. Must rectify. Enter, creepy!Tucker. :maniacal laugh:_

_Warning: creepy (if it wasn't obvious yet) and rated 'T'_

* * *

**Closing Rifts  
**A Danny Phantom FanFIction by Cordria

* * *

Tucker snorted softly, moving the small stylus to press a few keys on his PDA. Somewhere off in the distance a loud _boom_ shuttered through the air as the faraway object responded to his commands, but Tucker didn't pay it much mind. His whole being was centered on his PDA, his mind taken up by the soft jazz music playing through his wireless headset.

After a moment's contemplation, he switched modes on his PDA and used it as a remote to start up a few of the strange machines piled up around him. One was a ghost shield – specially tweaked by himself to keep out anything that resembled a ghost (including half-ghosts, quarter-ghosts, and even eighth-ghosts). Another was an automatic targeting device, already set to track anything supernatural that came his way, ready to shoot on command if needed. Yet a third was a portable air conditioner.

One had to stay cool while saving the world, after all.

His headset suddenly crackled to life, the soft music being overridden by a breathless voice_. "Shadow to Techno, come in Techno_."

"Techno here," Tucker said, sitting up a bit and a grin flickering on his face.

"_The packages have been delivered."_

"Excellent. You clear, Jazz?"

The voice on the line sounded annoyed. "_I'm 'Shadow', remember? Oh, and be advised that my brother's on the way."_

Tucker wrinkled his nose, then leaned over to double-check the ghost shield. There was only an eight-five percent chance that the shield would be able to withstand Danny's attempts to get through even if it was on full blast. It was. "Is he listening to reason yet?"

_"Not a chance in Hell, I told you that. Danny's gone crazy. Watch out for him – he tried to kill me just now. I only got away because of the Specter Deflector."_

"Crud," Tucker swore, closing his eyes for a moment. He had really wished that it wouldn't come to this; he'd hoped he could talk some sense into his best friend. Unfortunately, circumstances were beyond his control now. "Get clear and we'll end this."

_"Aye-aye captain."_ The line clicked and went dead, the jazz music jumping back to life.

Tucker hummed along with the tune for a moment as he typed into his PDA, setting up the various codes and responder frequencies he'd need for his next operation. Routing the signal through a half-dozen other countries and running four encryption algorithms in series would keep the authorities off his back long enough to complete their mission. If they could get the rifts closed, the ghost zone would be sealed off from the human world for decades.

They'd be heroes, him and Jazz. Single-handedly saving the world from the ravages of the ghosts and fighting off an insane half-ghost or two. He couldn't really _blame_ Danny for fighting with him over this; Danny was as tied to the ghost zone as he was to the human world. Their work at severing the link between the two worlds was what was causing the halfas to go crazy in the first place. When Sam had died, Danny had lost what little of his sanity remained, blaming Tucker and his plan for her death.

But the plan had to be continued, despite Danny's insane demands to the contrary. How many innocent human lives had been lost because of the ghosts? How many _years_ of work had gone into keeping them at bay? The ghosts were only a matter of months from invading and taking over the whole world… and then where would they be? Tucker had the ability to stop them _now_, and he was determined to follow through with his plan.

"Tucker Meredith Foley," came a snarled voice as Danny melted into view on the other side of the building.

Tucker nodded slowly, not at all surprised that Danny had located him. Danny had been able to do that since his accident – just happen to stumble across the people, places, or things he'd been trying to find. "Danny. You've got to listen-"

"_NO!"_ Danny took a few steps forward and slammed his fist against the shield. It fizzled loudly, but held firm. "Tucker, _you_ have got to listen."

"-only chance," Tucker continued blandly, ignoring his friend's tirade. "We can cut off the ghosts for _good,_ Danny."

Danny's eyes glowed fiercely. "Shut up, Tucker. Lower this stupid shield right now."

Looking up for a moment, Tucker locked eyes with his friend. The half-ghost was so visibly agitated that the air around him was ripping with energy. "You're going to kill me if I lower the shield." Tucker just blinked calmly as Danny growled at him, pacing back and forth on the other side of the wall. "Danny, you're going crazy. Calm down."

"No." Energy slammed into the ghost shield, making it shimmer and crackle, but not causing much strain to the engine powering it. "Tucker! Damn it!"

"_Shadow to Techno: I'm clear. We're a go for sealing the rifts."_ Jazz's voice echoed loudly in his ear.

Danny's frustrated scream announced that he'd heard the message as well. Tucker nodded to himself, leaning back against a discarded box and carefully starting to run the program that would close the rifts to the ghost zone. He'd close enough of them all at once to shock the barrier into staying closed for decades. It would work. "It'll work," he whispered, "just stay out of my way, Danny. I don't want to hurt you."

"Where are the bombs, Tucker," Danny asked, his voice sharp. "I know you blew up the one at the mall and the one at the school. Where are the rest of them?"

Not answering, Tucker turned up the music to his headset and typed in a few final commands.

"Tucker! _Seventeen_ people were killed at the mall – one of them _Sam _for crying out loud – three more at school! Stop this. Where are the bombs?" Danny was almost frantic, his feet levitating off the ground, his eyes wide.

Tucker started humming.

"_Tucker! _It's not worth it. Please, Tucker, listen to me. _Stop!" _Danny dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes. "Please, Tucker, _please."_

Stylus hovering over the button that would start the whole thing going, Tucker smiled. He'd be a hero, really, having saved the world from years and years of oppression by the ghosts. He'd stem the tide, he'd end the fear. No invasion. "This'll work," he breathed.

Close the rifts. The one at Fentonworks, the one in Vlad's lair, the one behind the Nasty Burger, the one in the high school cafeteria… there was quite a list of natural portals between the human world and the ghost zone. Eighteen, to be exact. Eighteen carefully designed explosives that would seal the holes. Sure there would be casualties, but then again, there were casualties in any war.

"There's no invasion!" Danny screamed. He was battering at the ghost shield with all of his power. "There's no war! There's no oppression. _Damn it Tucker!_ You're going to kill people!" The ghost shield continued to hold, flickering faintly against the powerful halfa's full strength.

"Bye, ghosties," Tucker grinned, and pressed the button.

* * *

Uploaded July 6, 2008  
XD Tucker just doesn't do creepy very well.  
Thanks for reading!


	94. Disappeared

_Funky formating. See if you can figure out the mystery before the end._

* * *

**Disappeared  
**A Danny Phantom FanFIction by Cordria

* * *

The day Danny disappeared, nobody said anything. There were a few phone calls, some minor lies, and the normal vague answers from Sam and Tucker. And, to be completely honest, Maddie and Jack were too wrapped up in their newest experiment to really notice. They had just gotten back from testing a new ectoweapon and had collected some very interesting information about the local ghosts.

_"Yeah, I just talked to him." "He just left." "I'll relay the message when I see him." "He'll be home soon." "He's spending the night with Tucker, I think."_

When he didn't show up for school the next day, people started getting worried. Sam and Tucker quietly whispered denials that they knew where he was and were very fuzzy about when they'd seen him last. Maybe lunch, they thought.

_"No, he didn't spend the night, I thought he went home." "I haven't heard from him today." "I'll try calling him." "Maybe he'll come home soon."_

By the time school let out, Danny's parents were a bit frantic and Sam and Tucker were looking nervous. Where could he be? Phone calls were made, people talked to, houses searched.

_"I haven't seen him." "I don't know where he is." "I'm so sorry, he's not here." "I'm sure he's fine – I'll call you if I see him."_

Supper wasn't eaten that night; the closest anyone came was some fast food hamburgers that were bought and forgotten in the backseat of the Fenton vehicle. No one could find the stomach to eat when they were out looking for the missing teen, not even Jack Fenton.

_"Where did he go?" "Did he run away?" "Was he kidnapped?" "I'm so sorry."_

Night fell around Amity Park, but FentonWorks was lit up like light bulbs were going out of style. Police were there, talking to Maddie, filling out a missing persons report, and starting to coordinate some kind of search. Jack was still out, driving around town, searching various places he thought Danny could be found. Locked in Danny's room, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were working on a way to look for Danny in the Ghost Zone without being captured by one of the nastier spirits.

_"What was he wearing the last time you saw him?" "Did he have any reason to run away?" "I'm sure we'll find him, just hang in there." "I hate to ask, but did he have any enemies?"_

The next day, the search was in full swing. The three teens excused themselves from school to join the search, quickly sneaking off to the Fenton's lab and through the portal. Sealed away in the Fenton's speeder and armed with the latest in ghost hunting technology, the friends swept the Ghost Zone for hours. When the fuel ran low, they were forced to return to their world, having seen no sign of their missing friend.

_"Got what he deserved, most likely." "Don't bug me." "I haven't seen the whelp." "Beware!"_

In Amity Park, the police were having just as little luck finding him. With no clues as to what happened to him, no leads to follow, and no real idea as to where he vanished from, the search was dead before it really even began. They sent out a BOL to the surrounding areas with Danny's description, checked the local hangouts, shelters, hospitals, and transportation lines, and shook their heads.

_"Have you seen him?" "Have you heard anything?" "Could this be a case of abduction?" "Where should we look next?"_

When the local news media got wind of Danny's disappearance, they sunk their teeth into it and raised the question nobody had bothered to ask, except for three teenagers who kept to themselves. Could he have been taken by ghosts? He was the son of world famous ghost hunters, after all. The Fentons, taken aback by the question, quickly mobilized their technology. Watching on with hopeful expressions, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz waited while the Fentons scanned the areas they had just searched.

_"The Ghost Zone is a scary place." "I hope he's not in there." "We're scanning for any signs of human-world matter." "Danny, where are you?"_

Nothing came of any of the searches. The next day dawned, and the day after that, and the gloomy day after that. Life in Amity Park rolled forwards, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were finally being forced to go back to school and the police were calling off what little searching they had been doing. They'd start again, they promised, if they could find any sort of clue that would help them figure out where Danny had gone. Maddie sat on her couch, staring blankly at the television, unable to do any work. Jack drove the Fenton vehicle in bigger and bigger circles, all the while knowing that he wouldn't find his son.

_"Have you seen him?" "I'm looking for my son; he's missing." "I'm so sorry, he hasn't been here." "Call if you see him?"_

It was one week after Danny disappeared when a hiker found something out in the woods a handful of miles from Amity Park. He carted the bloody tennis shoe back to the police station, where it was examined, poked and prodded, and the blood analyzed. Finally it was determined to belong to the missing Danny Fenton and the search resumed. There were also some strange burns on the shoe and, after some investigation, they decided the burns were the result of evaporating ectoplasm.

_"Could he have been chased by ghosts?" "What if he's hurt?" "It looks like he was attacked." "We're probably looking for a body."_

Police and volunteers combed the area, finding plenty of scorched leaves and a few dead birds, but no body. Around dusk on that first day, one of the searchers stumbled across a puddle of dried blood. People stood around, already deciding in their own minds that was Danny's blood and that there was too much lying on the ground for him to have lived. In the hearts of the rescuers, Danny Fenton was dead.

_"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?" "The blood results came back – it's Danny's." "He lost too much blood." "I'm sorry, but the chances of him being alive aren't very good."_

Not far away from the pool of blood, someone found week-old tire tracks left in the dirt. Casts were taken of the tracks and experts compared them against different kinds of vehicles. A large tank would have left those kinds of tracks, the searchers whispered to themselves, looking at the tracks and the bent twigs and leaves all along the tracks' route back to the road with their own brand of logic. Every eye in town turned to the only people in the area equipped with tanks – the Guys in White.

_"The government took Danny?" "What does the governor have to say about this? "I wonder what Danny knew that they wanted to keep quiet." "And where did Phantom go - has anyone seen him recently?"_

The Guys in White were quick on the comeback. They hadn't been in the area, they denied any knowledge of the missing teenager, and although they did have tanks, the track patterns didn't match up. A local investigator was allowed complete access to the GiW facility and he came out stating that neither Danny Fenton nor Phantom was being held inside.

_"Who else has a tank?" "I'm so sorry he's gone." "The school is holding a candlelight vigil tonight." "I'm sorry for you loss; I brought you a Bundt cake."_

Unfortunately, the shoe, the blood, and the strange tire tracks were the only things found. More days passed as the trail grew colder and colder, the depressing search tailing off once again. No doubt Danny had been kidnapped, hurt quite badly, thrown in some sort of tank, and then carted off. A body was out there, somewhere, and nobody could find it.

_"I wonder who has him." "The chances of finding him aren't good." "I feel so sorry for the Fentons and Danny's friends." "Danny… where are you?"_

Sam and Tucker made it through the days in a blur, going through the motions at school. They'd run out of things to check; nobody had seen either Danny or Phantom in either world. Vlad, to their great surprise, seemed more distraught at Danny's disappearance than they had expected. He was almost friendly when they went to visit. It was only later that they learned that Vlad was throwing more resources – human and ghost – into the search for Danny than anyone was aware. Topping their list of things they thought were strange was the number of times Plasmius was seen hanging around FentonWorks.

_"Do you know where he is?" "I'm worried about Danny." "I'm not sure he's dead – I think he's lost." "I think he's being held against his will."_

Two weeks after Danny vanished, the media managed to put together two random pieces of information. Danny Phantom had been seen in that area the day Danny disappeared, and the ghost hadn't been seen since. Maybe their town specter had been defending the boy… or had taken Danny someplace. The police began a half-hearted search for the ghost, already knowing they wouldn't find hide nor hair of the elusive phantom.

_"Is Phantom really a hero?" "Where has the ghost gone?" "Could Danny be a trophy on Phantom's wall as we speak?" "Phantom: hero or villain, next on your local news."_

Nothing really came from their search. Both Danny and Phantom were just gone, without a trace, and nobody in either world could track them down.

_"The search is being called off." "We're so sorry." "He's in a better place." "We'll keep an eye out for him."_

And so it was, two weeks and six days after Danny vanished, that Sam and Tucker sat down with Danny's parents and started to talk. They explained about the accident and what the three of them had been doing ever since.

_"Danny… he's half-ghost." "Phantom." "We hunted the other ghosts that attacked Amity Park." "I'm sorry we never told you."_

Through it all, Maddie and Jack just said still, faces pale from disbelief, and waited for them to stop talking. Sam and Tucker talked about how they thought maybe a ghost had got him – or some people thinking he was Phantom. After talking for nearly three hours straight, Sam and Tucker left Maddie and Jack sitting on the couch, still staring in disbelief. Neither adult had ever said a word.

_"… Danny…" "…Phantom…" _

As one, the two quietly got to their feet after the door had clicked shut behind the two friends. They walked slowly up the bridge and stopped in front of the door to the weapons vault. After gazing at the door for the longest time, Jack finally reached out and pushed open the door. Inside rested the experiment they had been working on when Danny had disappeared; an experiment they hadn't gone near or looked at in nearly three weeks. And suddenly, everything made a horrible amount of sense.

_"It's a nightmare." "What have we done?"_

Inside the vault, behind a ghost shield, was Phantom.

_"Danny?"_

* * *

Uploaded July 10, 2008  
So... is he dead or not?  
Thanks for reading!


	95. Overheard Conversations

_:grumbles: So much for my 'update every day' idea. Anyways, this was SUPPOSED to be a funny story. But it twisted, like they always do._

* * *

**Overheard Conversation  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Maddie hummed softly to herself as she leaned over the box. _No, that's not it. No, not that one either. All I need is a AA battery – darn you Jack, where did you hide them?_ She hesitated, staring down into the box of old batteries. _Is that fudge?_ Reaching in, she poked the brown substance, uncertain. In the Fenton lab, you could never be certain what was what.

A soft _beep_ brought her head up, gazing around the lab. She waited… then _beep_. It sounded like a dying cell phone, crying out to be recharged.

Or the sound of the ghost proximity alert after Jack scavenged it for the Fenton Ghost Magnet. And, since Maddie was pretty sure she didn't own a cell phone, that sound meant that a ghost was approaching.

_Beep_. Maddie chewed on her lip for a moment, reached up onto the table to grab one of the ectoguns she'd been fiddling with, and checked the charge. She'd only get a few blasts out of it before it died. Hopefully it would be enough to distract the ghost while she got to the bigger weapons. _Beep_.

With no time to move, Maddie hunkered down, mostly hidden by a shelf and the box of miscellaneous batteries (and maybe fudge). She stared into the empty lab, waiting for the ghost to make its appearance. Maybe it would just fly through the portal and be gone. Her head snapped over to the portal with a groan – the ghost portal was closed and locked. _Beep. Beep. Beep._

The temperature dropped. Just as Maddie saw her breath mist in front of her, the ghost appeared. Silver boots clanged loudly against the concrete floor and the spectral robot's eyes scanned the lab quickly. The ghost turned a little and Maddie saw…

_Danny_. She rose to her feet the instant she saw her son dangling from the ghost's fist. Danny was squirming weakly in the ghost's grasp, whimpering softly, fear evident in his face. Maddie clenched her jaw, fury sparkling. She raised her weapon.

"Stop sniveling."

Maddie blinked at the ghost's careless tone, then hesitated when Danny's eyes popped open. Indignant words tumbled from his mouth. "I'm not _sniveling_."

"Sure sounds like it."

"That's not sniveling, it's _acting_," he pronounced. Maddie stifled a gasp when Danny simply yanked his arm out of ghost's clutches and glared at the robotic spirit. "And if you can't tell good acting from the real thing, then you're either really unobservant or I'm a better actor than I thought. I probably tricked most of the school into thinking I couldn't fight back, you know."

For a second, Maddie just stared at her son. Danny wasn't scared… instead, he seemed… confident. She let the gun drift down to point at the ground, staring at them. _He tricked the school? Why?_

The ghost snarled at her son and stomped over to the closed portal. "How do you open this?"

Danny grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels, ignoring the fuming ghost. "Was that a compliment then? The ghost zone's greatest hunter, complimenting _me_? The lowly halfa?"

_Halfa_? Maddie wondered. Her mouth couldn't seem to close, her gaze flipping from one to the other. _I need to… rescue… don't I?_

"How do you open this?!" the ghost snapped, glaring at the portal.

"Fenton DNA. How else?" Danny shot back.

Kicking the door, the ghost raised an arm and a weapon appeared out of nowhere. Maddie raised her own gun a few inches when the ghost pronounced, "Open, or else I'll blast you open."

Her son just rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure threatening an inanimate object will work."

"Shut it, whelp."

Danny threw up his hands and groaned. "Whelp, whelp, whelp. Why are you still hunting me, anyways?"

_Why aren't you running away?_ Maddie screamed in her head. _Why are you just talking to him? Danny… do something. Don't just stand there._

"It's personal," the ghost muttered, still eying the locked portal.

"It's not still the gorilla thing, is it? Because that was, like, months ago. AND I apologized already."

With a scowl, the ghost punched the door, causing a loud _crash _to echo through the lab. Maddie jumped at the sound, but her son just snickered.

"If I would have known you were still on the gorilla thing, I would have taken the chance to torment you about it more before it got old. Now, it's old. I can't work with old, Skulker."

"It's not the gorilla thing," the robot, Skulker, seethed.

Danny blinked. "Then what is it?"

Amazed at herself, Maddie wondered the same thing. _Why are you hunting my son?_ She waited, her gun pointed at a spot about halfway to the ghost, ready to fire. But she didn't shoot.

"You keep escaping my traps. It's personal. Besides, you cheat."

"I _cheat_?" Danny sounded incredulous. "_HOW_?!"

"You use human technology."

"I use…" Danny trailed off, confused. "Why can't I…"

Skulker turned to him, eyes burning. "Ghosts don't use human technology – we use ghost technology. Using human things is cheating."

"_You were trying to skin me and put me on your wall_!" Danny shouted. "Besides, they're my _parents'_ inventions."

Maddie froze, her breath stopping in her throat. _Skin him and put him on the wall?_ Her eyes narrowed, pointing the ectogun straight at the robot's chest. _How dare he? Nobody threatens to skin MY son._

"It's beneath us. Now, open this portal," the ghost demanded.

Focusing through her weapon's sight, Maddie's finger started to press against the trigger. But suddenly all of the technology around the lab started to beep and whir, making her hesitate again. An impossible green aura appeared around Danny, energy seething around him. His hands were clenched and his eyes were glowing fiercely. "_Skulker_…"

The ghost in question took a few steps forwards, grabbing her son's arm. Danny jerked backwards, his arm sliding easily out of Skulker's grasp. Danny glared up at the ghost as Maddie stared at her son in mounting panic. _What's going on? Is he possessed? Danny!?_

"Ghosts _hunt_ me because I'm human," Danny ground out, "and now you're telling me you hunt me because I use _human_ technology? I'm human but I can't use human technology? _How does that make sense_?"

Skulker made a grab for Danny's arm, but Danny took a step backwards and out of the ghost's grasp. "It _doesn't_ make sense. It's backwards. It's, like, girl logic." Suddenly, Danny's aura disappeared and he gazed at Skulker with his head tipped to the side and a curious expression replacing the anger in a split-second. "You're not a girl, are you?"

The ghost froze. "What?"

Maddie had similar thought going through her head – she was so confused that she felt like breaking down and crying. Or blasting something. The ectogun in her hands was warm against her fingers, almost begging to be used as a misplaced outlet for her emotions. _Blast the ghost_.

"I mean, you're a frog, for crying out loud. It's not like I can tell," Danny muttered.

The ghost was shaking, his eyes glowing brightly.

Danny continued blithely, apparently unconcerned at the fury that was cascading off the ghost next to him. "It'd make sense, kind of. Maybe you _like_ me. Maybe you want to date me, you just don't know how-"

Skulker's arm shot out without warning, catching Danny on the side of the head. Danny slammed into the wall and crumpled to the ground with a startled yelp.

"Danny!" Maddie gasped aloud, scrambling out from behind the short shelf without another thought, her gun trained on the ghost that had attacked her son. _Danny_…

The ghost twisted around to glare at her in surprised anger. Danny, clearly uninjured, untangled his limbs and pushed himself to his knees, his eyes wide. "Mom…" he breathed.

Taking the moment of confusion, Skulker grabbed Danny's limp arm and half-dragged him over to the portal. Pressing Danny's finger against the reader, Skulker grinned with the portal finally hissed open. "Now, I, Skulker!, the ghost zone's greatest _MALE_ predator, can finally-"

Danny snapped out of his daze, his head flipping around to glare at the ghost, cutting off his gloating with just a look. His words were clear through his eyes. _Let go_.

Skulker hesitated. "I can finally…"

Danny _growled_. Maddie shivered a little at the pure power in that simple sound, her worried eyes trained on her son.

The ghost simply let go. Skulker stared down at Danny for a long moment before raising his chin and saying, "I, Skulker, will return to get you some other day, whelp." Then he turned and walked towards the portal. "And yes, I count this as cheating as well." In a swirl of green mist, the ghost vanished.

Danny bit his lip, quietly thumbing the portal closed again. His gaze flickered up to meet his mother's eyes.

Not knowing what to think, Maddie stared at her son, knowing her face was pale with shock and fear. Danny_, what just happened? What's going on? Why is that ghost hunting you? Why…_ Questions tumbled around in her head, jumbled and jangled and unable to disentangle themselves long enough to make it out of her mouth.

So, after a moment, Maddie just turned and sat down on one of the stools. Licking her lips, she picked up the invention she'd been working on and stared at it. After taking a deep breath, she gestured towards the chair next to her. "Sit," she said – her voice soft, but the command evident.

Danny slipped forwards, quietly settling onto the chair.

Silence descended. Maddie continued to work on her invention – managing to jerry-rig a different kind of battery to work for the test – and sent her son small smiles when he handed her the tools she needed. There was really nothing to say; the silence said it all. Questions hung heavily in the air.

_Don't overreact_, a voice whispered in her mind. _Wait for it. All good things come to those who wait. Threatening the information out of him won't do you any good. Wait. Patience, Maddie_.

She fit the last few pieces into place, holding the small ghost locator up to the light and examining it. Still Danny said nothing.

Maddie bit back her thousands of questions and sighed. "Pizza?" she asked.

Danny, blinking a little at the strange question, nodded.

Waiting just a moment more, Maddie pushed herself to her feet and headed towards the stairs. She was disappointed that her son hadn't said anything, but she kind of understood. He probably didn't know what to say, much less how to begin.

_Give him time. Let him think. Don't push – not yet._

"Mom…" Danny said quietly, his fingers clenched around the seat of his chair.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Danny," Maddie replied, her hand on the rail and her foot on the first step. There was no judgment in her voice, just acceptance, her simple tones belying the hurt that was eating at her heart. "I love you and I trust you."

Then she turned and walked up the stairs, leaving Danny alone in the lab.

* * *

Uploaded July 28, 2008  
Yeah... sorry. XD  
Thanks for reading!


	96. Attack of the Clone

_I didn't get the job I interviewed for. It's probably for the best, but I was kind of excited about it, and now it's a bit of a letdown. :depressed: So... this came out. _

_Got a suggestion to put the TYPE of story at the beginning and, since it was such a brilliant suggestion, I will do so from now on. Enjoy._

_Oh, and to those of you who DON'T know. 'Star Shots' is 100 chapters long and that's it. Will not continue beyond that. HOWEVER - I doubt I'm going to stop drabbling. So I'll need some new place to throw these. Any ideas for titles?_

_Genre: horror/angst  
Main Characters: Vlad and Danny  
Summary: Vlad's plot to kill Jack, marry Maddie, and get the perfect son has a hitch. The 'Ultimate' hitch._

* * *

**Attack of the Clone  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

"_DAMN IT!"_

He slammed his fist into the wall and screamed in pain and pure frustration. Shaking out his fist, he stormed across the small room to glare at the opposite wall like it was the source of his anger. He fumed silently for a few minutes, trying to get himself under control. Breaking things – while definitely enjoyable – wasn't going to be helpful.

"Damn it," he muttered, folding his arms firmly across his chest and taking a deep breath. His voice was still trembling with rage. "Damn it all."

The source of his anger was lounging in one of the chairs, of all places, and not making a sound. Twin blue eyes were gazing at him calmly, arms crossed languidly over his stomach, a small smile on his good-for-nothing face. It was almost – _almost_ – a smirk, and Vlad wished that he could smash it right off of the boy's expression. Smash it into a million billion little pieces, mail them to random places on the globe, and then blow up the whole planet. And maybe Mars too, just for effect.

But, as he had just decided, breaking things wasn't helpful… at least right at this moment.

"All I did was what you told me, _father_. I'm not sure why you're so mad," the boy said, his voice dripping with false innocence. "Jack Fenton is dead just like you requested."

Vlad's fingers curled into fists even though he kept them tight against his chest. "It is the _manner_ in which you killed the idiot, not the fact that he's dead, that has me so angry, you stupid ball of ectoplasm."

The boy leaned forwards in his chair, his laughing blue eyes an impossibly close facsimile to Daniel's. "I'm confused, still. You told me to kill him however I saw fit."

There was no doubt in Vlad's mind that the clone knew _exactly_ what Vlad meant. Vlad snarled to himself, fighting back the desire to rip the boy to shreds for his arrogance. He was just sitting there, thinking he was on top of the world. Oh, how Vlad wished he could bring the clone down a few pegs. But no, he couldn't, not right now. He still needed a fake Phantom. It was the _only_ thing keeping the boy alive.

He bit back his fury and tried to keep his voice civil. He failed, miserably. "You allowed Madeline to learn about the existence of half-ghosts," he spat.

"True," the clone said with a shrug, "but beyond the fact that her son is one – one who killed her beloved husband, by the way – she doesn't know anything more. She has no reason to suspect you and she never will."

"She is _smart_, you dolt," Vlad hissed. "She'll figure it out."

"Doubt it." The boy picked a piece of lint off one of the armchairs and sighed. "She didn't seem all that smart while I was living with her. And she's really not that pretty. Of all the women in the world, why'd you go and be obsessed with _her_? I'm sure you could get someone a lot better _without_ having to go through all of this junk."

Choking down his initial livid response, Vlad counted to ten in his head and stared up at the ceiling. Then he counted to twenty. When he got to forty, he started holding his breath, hoping that would help. By the time he got to ninety, he was pretty sure he could look at the annoyance without blowing anything up.

How did this stupid clone learn to push all of his buttons so fast? "You are lacking in information."

The boy snorted and rolled his eyes. "Am I?"

"Yes," Vlad ground out, "you are."

Silence reigned for a few seconds before the clone leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on Vlad's desk. "You know," the boy said in a bored tone, "I learned a lot of _interesting_ things while I was playing Daniel's part. I got all that information you wanted."

"Excellent," Vlad spat as he shoved the boy's dirty shoes off of his desk. "At least you did _something_ right."

"What's wrong, _father_? You look like you want to kill me or something."

Vlad looked up into the clone's dancing eyes, noting that the smirk had grown. Vlad's eyes narrowed. He was being played like a fish and he knew it. "I'd love to, actually. But since the _real_ Daniel is dead, I need someone to play the part."

"And, for all my flaws," the boy continued with a smile, "I can play the part."

"What did you learn." It was technically a question, but Vlad twisted it into a harsh command.

The clone smiled at him. "Mostly that she hates you." Vlad felt like someone had punched his gut, but he didn't let it show on his face as the boy continued. "She blames you for Jack's death, I think. Before he died, she didn't like you – she thought you were a greasy, well-dressed Neanderthal. An opinion I agree with, by the way. Probably wouldn't have given you the time of day if Jack weren't around. _After_ Jack died, she… well… she just hates you."

"How would you know how she feels after Jack's death?" Vlad asked sourly. "You killed the man and then raced here to hide."

"Oh, no I didn't, actually. I hung around the Fenton's house for a while, listening in. She somehow connected me to you."

Vlad's fists clenched, his eyes sparkling with red fury. "How?"

The clone shrugged, uncaring about Vlad's show of rage. "I really don't care. Maybe Jazz told her something or another. Anyways, you've really got no chance with her. You're going to die a lonely, boring old bachelor with no hope of ever having a family." His tone was indolent, his entire demeanor showing just how little he worried about Vlad's power. "Oh!" He sat up suddenly, as if remembering something. When he looked up at Vlad, however, his expression didn't show anything but calm planning. The 'sudden memory' was nothing but a fake. "I learned something else too."

"What?" Vlad really didn't want to know and wasn't paying much attention to what the clone was saying. He wanted to go kill something. _Madeline_ hated him. The idiot of a clone managed to mess up everything and now he'd _never_ get her back. Daniel, even as a clone, was ruining his life.

"Did you know that Daniel was going to be the ultimate power in the universe?"

That got Vlad's attention. "What do you mean?"

The boy grinned, cat-like, his eyes gleaming. He was sitting sideways in the chair by this point, one leg thrown carelessly over an armrest, his foot swinging back and forth. "Daniel went into the future a few months ago. His 'future self' completely destroyed both the human and ghost worlds and left you as nothing more than a groveling hermit. Did you know that?"

"What do I care about that? Daniel's dead."

"And Maddie hates you. I know. The whole world is crashing down around you." The boy laughed a little. "Fun, isn't it? You don't even have me anymore – but you knew that the moment I walked in the door. You must have realized that I refuse to serve you any longer, _father_. You've got _nothing_."

Vlad twisted on his heel. His rage was fading, being replaced with a sickening dread and a feeling of heavy sadness. "Go away."

"I'm not done," the clone said peacefully, rummaging around in the backpack he'd dropped by his feet. "Aren't you wondering why I even bothered to come back here after ruining everything for you? You see, I figured that if goody-two-shoes _Daniel_ could turn evil, than why not me? After all, I was raised by _you_; I've got none of Daniel's pesky _conscience_. And since I'm not in any danger of melting, I thought maybe I could go for it. Unlimited power and control – ruler of two worlds? The Pariah Dark of the new millennium? The title sounded interesting."

"Go for it, then," Vlad muttered. He had no doubt that the clone wouldn't get very far. Whatever insane dream the boy had found, it wouldn't last long in the real world. He was a clone of a sixteen-year-old boy, for pity's sake; Vlad would crush him like a bug whenever the boy had finished playing his part. Sooner, rather than later, 'Phantom' would no longer be needed.

"I don't, however, think I want you hanging around, even as a lame hermit. So I think I'll just kill you and steal your ghost half now."

Vlad started to turn around, but he was too slow. His chest screamed in pain as he felt the modified ghost gauntlets stab into him. Blood cascaded down his body in a wash of scarlet warmth. The world spun, there was a sharp _yank_ that felt like his organs were being pulled from his body, and Vlad tumbled to the ground in disbelief. Even as death curled around him, he couldn't quite comprehend it. Sure, the boy was annoying and frustrating and stupid… but Vlad would never have guessed him to be _dangerous_. How had that happened? When had the clone gotten so powerful?

The last thing he saw as the world faded was his ghost half being absorbed by the clone of Daniel Phantom. "I am the ultimate enemy," the boy chuckled, his eyes fading to a bloody red. He looked down at Vlad and laughed. "And you're dead. Long live the king."

* * *

Uploaded August 1, 2008  
:sigh: :depressed:  
Thanks for reading!


	97. Emotions

__

Post PP. I'm feeling better, but, as you will be able to tell, I'm still a little weird. Sorry 'Masks' isn't up yet – that's not the kind of story I can edit when I'm in a funk like this. These drabbles (this one and the previous one) are an attempt to get out of it. Ignore than randomness and any quality issues, as well as the death and chaos. I don't really mean it…

I decided to put genre and stuff in the summary on the title page after some suggestions by reviewers who wanted to be surprised. Look there from now on. Hopefully this is the best of both worlds and suits the most people.

Still on the lookout for an excellent title for my second drabble collection! Get in your ideas soon!

* * *

**Emotions  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_It started as fear._

She whimpered a little, surprised at the sounds that were coming out of her mouth. Never would she have expected to be _afraid_, but yet here she was, shivering and curled into a ball, terrified. She hugged her legs a little closer to her and winced as a sharp stab of pain rocked through her chest. Bruised ribs – she'd forgotten.

The cage she was in was barely larger than she was. Thick, glowing iron bars surrounded her and made sitting painful. Every time she moved, she scraped the top of her head on the bars that formed the ceiling. Stretching out was impossible – even curled up like she was, her back and legs were pressed against opposing sides of the tiny box.

Her eyes flashed around the empty room, staring at the various blinking lights of the strange laboratory she'd found herself taken to. A computer whirred noisily through programs, little things beeped and buzzed all around her, and the whole space was lit by an almost supernaturally eerie light. She licked her dry lips, rested her chin on her knees, and waited.

There was no door to her cage – at least that she'd found. No locks, no hinges, no apparent seams where it could open. She'd woken up in it and, she feared, she'd die in it. It had been hours already, curled up and cramped. Her legs ached, her back screamed, and her neck mumbled dark complaints about the position she'd found herself in.

And, as always, the laboratory was empty save for the distant buzz of the equipment around her and the soft bubble of the strange substances in containers scattered around. The noises were getting on her nerves; it was like the creepy soundtrack to a horror movie. After all this time, fear was curling up inside of her. It was, she knew, because she didn't know what was going on.

"Someone help me," she rasped, her voice raw from the lack of something to drink. "Please, someone. Anyone."

There was no hope of anyone hearing, but still she tried. It was all she could do to prevent the fear from coiling around her mind and making her incapable of doing anything. In all likelihood, the owner (or owners) of the lab would be back to…

She shuddered, breaking off that thought. Then, painfully, she started over. She needed to deal with what was going on. She needed to not be paralyzed by her own mind.

In all likelihood, the owner (or owners) of the lab would be back to experiment on her. One wall contained devices that looked like things someone could use for experimentation: a table with straps to hold down a prisoner; a collection of knives, needles, and other sharp objects; strange substances and containers; a set of chains dangling from a wall.

When they came back, they would have to open the cage to get to her and experiment on her. She'd be ready. She'd escape – run, fly, fall, _crawl_ if she needed to – and get away. They'd give chase, of course, but she'd be faster. She'd have to be faster if she wanted to survive. Get up and run.

But for the moment… wait.

* * *

_Then, it became rage._

It turned out that there was only one owner of the strange laboratory she'd found herself in. The ghost slammed open the door, walked in with a swirl of his white lab coat, and then carefully closed and locked the door behind him. It was just the two of them. Her eyes watched, observant and sharp, as the ghost hooked the key onto a nail next to the door.

"Perfect," the ghost chuckled, floating across the room and hovering near her cage, "you are awake, human." She could see her own fear-filled eyes reflecting in the ghost's nightmare-black glasses. "You like your '_hip'_ new residence? I made it just for you."

"What do you want with me?" she said. She'd meant it to be a demand, powerful and strong, but instead it came out raspy and scared. She hated how it sounded.

The ghost suddenly leaned closer, his crooked teeth and his pale, demented smile a hair's-breadth from the cage's bars. She pressed herself against the opposite bars, turning her head to the side slightly. The ghost's breath held the sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh. A beep echoed through the lab and she twitched in fear.

With a laugh, the ghost straightened. "I do not want anything with _you_, actually. You are bait."

"B-bait?" she whispered.

The smile grew against his greenish skin and the ghost raked his fingers through his scraggly white hair. "I got the idea from Skulker," he whispered conspiratorially. "You will lure the annoying child in and I, _Technus_ 2.5!, will blast him with…" he turned around quickly, grabbing a strange-looking gun off of one of the tables, "_this_!"

She swallowed, relieved for a moment that she wasn't going to be experimented on, then tensed as she ran through the rather short list of who the 'annoying child' could possibly be. There was, really, only one person on the list. "What do you want with him?" she snapped, suddenly angry at the ghost for daring to use _her_ as bait to catch him, frustrated at how her voice still trembled. Her rage at being used in such a way warred with her terror at the situation she'd found herself in.

"Nanobots." Technus ran his hand lovingly over the gun, his sunglasses glinting in the ghostly light. "I created them myself. They will overrun his mind and give me total control. Then I – the _Master_ of All Technology – will be able to take over the world. No one will suspect that _he_ would turn against them. Not the 'savior of the planet'."

"He's never going to fall for that." She narrowed her eyes, her anger overrunning her fear.

Technus merely smiled. "We shall see." He pulled a small copy of '_How to Sound Hip for the Unhip'_ out of a pocket and paged through it for a moment. "I will 'bring it' when he dares to 'show'."

Arching her back a little, wincing at the pain in her spine and in her ribs, she glared at the ghost, then turned to gaze at the door in annoyance. He'd _better_ not fall for it. She breathed out a long, slow breath, trying to relax against the hard bars and find a comfortable spot.

The ghost turned and started wiping his nanobot gun with a clean rag, humming in a nasally tone. All she could do was groan and wait. It really _was_ a good plan.

* * *

_Then, it was terror._

He fell for it.

Kicking down the door with a scream, Danny Phantom breezed into Technus' lair, his eyes instantly going to her. He hesitated when he saw her crammed into the tiny cage, a look of pain and frustration in her eyes. His mouth moved…

And so did Technus. The ghost whirled on Danny in that instant of hesitation, the blast catching the half-ghost square in the chest. "Ha-ha! I have you now, child."

"Danny!" she screamed, hitting the cage with her hand.

Danny collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain as the nanobots flew through his system. She could see them in her mind's eye, attacking his brain and striping him of his free will. He shouted in pain, wrapping his arms around his head, then went limp.

"I… won?" Technus said, his echoing voice tinged with disbelief as he edged over towards Phantom.

"Leave him alone!" she shrieked as the ghost toed the unconscious boy. "Danny!"

"I won," the ghost whispered. Then a grin broke out on his green face. "I _won_! I, _Technus_ 2.5!, Master of All Technology and Soon-to-be-Ruler of the World, have defeated the annoying child! And it was so _easy_."

Danny's eyes drifted open. They were a simmering green still, but blank and emotionless. He pushed himself to his feet and wavered a little, staring blankly at Technus, not looking over in her direction.

"Child! I am your master," Technus proclaimed. "Destroy the human female." The ghost pointed carelessly towards her.

"No. Danny!" she called out, pleading as Danny turned and headed in her direction. His empty, glazed eyes fixed on hers without a hint of recognition or care. "Danny, don't. Danny, snap out of it! Danny…" she pleaded, her eyes wide as terror sparkled inside of her.

Danny was a _powerful_ ghost – she'd known that for years, even before she knew that Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same. She'd been on the receiving end of Danny's carefully controlled power on a number of occasions, but she'd never feared for her life. Deep inside, she'd always known that Phantom was holding back when he dealt with the humans of Amity Park. Even when she hunted him, even when she managed to _hurt_ him, Danny held back.

Now, however, she was staring straight into the full force of his power. There would be no escape for her, the only possible route would be her death. She was afraid of dying, she wasn't ready to be done, but she was also afraid of how Danny would react. Eventually he'd be rescued… and she wondered if he'd know exactly what he'd been forced to do. Would he remember killing her?

She couldn't tell if she was more afraid _for_ Danny or _of_ Danny. Her arms trembled as Danny took a few more steps and raised his hands.

Energy coiled around his wrists and collected in his palms in a glowing ball of light. His whole aura was flaring in a shimmer of colors and energy, his eyes twin glowing emeralds. She wanted to look away, but she really couldn't. She was transfixed.

Death was staring at her and she couldn't look away. The collected ectoblast was fizzling and simmering in the air as he released it, making all the tiny hairs on her body stand on end and her teeth ache in the instants before it hit. It glowed like a miniature sun, but it wasn't green like she'd been expecting. Yes, it was mostly green, but when it was this powerful it was also something more.

The closer it zoomed, the more she could see. All the colors of the rainbow danced inside the tiny sphere. They twirled and cascaded from the bloodiest of scarlets through to the deepest of azures. It sizzled softly, crooning a deadly lullaby in her ears, whispering quiet promises of the peace of the afterlife. She was hypnotized by the pure power, lost like a deer caught in headlights, helpless against one of the most basic forces of nature.

And she never thought that it would be so beautiful.

_It ended as wonder._

* * *

Uploaded August 1, 2008  
Sorry I never tell you who 'she' was... can you figure it out?  
Thanks for reading!


	98. A Blast from the Past

__

Sorry about this one. Had to appear at some point. Also, appologies about not replying to reviews yet - all 150-something of them are sitting in my inbox. XD Thank you for the next drabble collection title ideas!

In answer to someone's question: Yes, I have a person 'fanon' about what the ghosts are like and how things came to be the way they are. Most (90 percent) of my stories fit into that. Now and then I write one that's just off-the-wall bizzare, but otherwise, they all fit into the same 'universe'. This story, for example, is my idea of how something came to be and most of my stories fit into this universe. I hope that makes a little more sense to you than it does to me. :D

* * *

**A Blast from the Past  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

It was all just a mistake, the first time we opened a portal into the ghost zone. Not one of the three of us were expecting it – and I can guarantee you that none of us could possibly imagine the consequences of the accident. At the time, it was merely serendipity: a fortuitous happenstance, nothing more than a lucky roll of the dice. Little did we realize that it was much more than chance.

It was destiny.

I was nineteen and a freshman in college. The idiotic university wouldn't let me test out of basic chemistry, so I was forced to sit through the endless hours of boring lectures on introductory principles and basic elemental structures. I had the 'A' already in the bag without paying any attention, so I was more focused on what was going on around me.

Okay, so that's a bit of a lie. I was focused only on one particular person – my lab partner. She was _hot_, you really can't blame me. Black hair, green eyes, skinny but curvy in all the right places… I was in heaven. A bomb probably would have gone off and I wouldn't have noticed.

Hey, I was nineteen. Don't give me that look.

And she was, I found out at our first lab time, dumber than a brick. I, personally, knew a selection of bricks that could hold a better conversation than she could. By the end of that first lab, I had fallen out of whatever momentary love I'd fallen in to. She was _gorgeous_, I'd never get over that, but if I had to hear her say 'groovy' one more time in that stupid tone I was going to stuff her into a flask and boil her down into a primordial ooze.

Fortunately, my roommate (and soon-to-be best friend) hadn't ended up any better on the random lab partner draw. His partner was a brash, annoying, and somewhat stuck-up young woman named Madeline Jameson – also known as the Lab Partner from Hell. Every few minutes I heard her correcting something that Vlad had (or hadn't) done; it would have driven me nuts. Vlad, though, had fallen head-over-heels in love with her in about two seconds.

I timed it. Two seconds – and one of those seconds was the time it took him to trip and hit his head on the floor. Pathetic. Royally pathetic.

"Jack," Vlad hissed, leaning perilously in his chair to tap my shoulder, "pay attention."

I shook my head and returning to staring at my lab partner. As long as she stayed quiet, I could keep up my daydream that she was secretly a chemical genius and would suddenly fall desperately in love with me. Besides, the professor was lecturing about the thermal properties of exothermic reactions in closed systems – I could have _given_ that lecture. It's not like I had to pay attention.

"Fine." Vlad picked up his notebook and tossed it onto my desk. "Then look at this."

Glancing down at the notebook, I was prepared to just ignore it. It was covered in Vlad's horrible little doodles: tiny little circles and hoops and bricks and loop-the-loops that didn't do anything but take up time and space. A funky little formula at the bottom of the page caught my eye. Blue pen instead of red, perfectly legible instead of Vlad's normal scrawl, and…

I picked it up and looked at it closer. "Where did you get this?" I whispered. It was a variation of an endothermic formula I'd created a few months earlier. I did some quick calculations in my head – the electrons were much better balanced in this formula than in mine. "This is _stable_!"

The professor ground to a halt – apparently I'd spoken a bit louder than I'd planned. Fighting down the blush that I knew was trying to stain my cheeks red, I set the notebook down. "Sorry." With an overly dramatic eye roll, Dr. Farmington slipped back into his lecture, tapping the overhead projector with his finger to note the key points.

"Where did you get this?" I hissed again, leaning over towards Vlad, I pointed at the formula.

"I knew you'd be interested," Vlad grinned. Then he pointed at his lab partner. "She did it."

I looked at her just as Maddie glanced over at me. Her blue-green eyes met mine and she tilted her chin up slightly, a haughty look settling over her features. "And it's my formula, thank you very much," she muttered, leaning over to grab Vlad's notebook out of my hands. "Just because I showed it to _Vlad_ doesn't mean you can steal it."

"Do you know what that is?" I pointed towards the notebook, my mind already overrunning with ideas on what you could do with such a perfect endothermic reaction. Man, you could quite literally make an _ice ray_ out of that if you got the chemical balance right. Blast some chemicals at a target and it'd freeze solid in a matter of seconds. Groovy.

"Of _course_ I know what it is," Maddie snapped back, "it's _my_ formula." She brushed a lock of her rusty hair out of her eyes and scowled at me. "It's ectoplasm."

My eyebrow rose. "It's what?"

"Ectoplasm," Vlad filled in quietly, grinning foolishly at his crush. Maddie didn't seem to notice, her narrowed eyes focused on my disbelieving face.

_Ectoplasm?_ Seriously? My heart sank a little – here I thought she was smart. Turns out, she was just a raving lunatic with a penchant for chemistry. "As in, ghost goo? The stuff that mediums vomited?"

"Idiot," Maddie whispered, crossing her arms and turning away, apparently focused on the lecture all three of us were missing.

I sighed, turning away from Maddie and trying to ignore the looks I was getting from my love-struck roommate. Apparently he didn't like the way I was treating her idea. But _ectoplasm?_ That was a bit of a stretch. I was as prone to believing in ghosts and the supernatural as anybody else, but the thought that you could create ectoplasm – _real_ ectoplasm, not just some gooey gelatinous mixture – in a lab brought a derisive smile to my face. The smile turned a little dreamy as my eyes fell back on my lab partner.

The truth was, however, that I couldn't get her formula out of my head.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Vlad," I pleaded, falling down to my knees and clasping my hands under my chin. "Julie's dumber than my _alarm clock_. If I have to take one more lab session with her I'm going to explode."

He scowled down at me, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes looking dubious. Three to a group was perfectly legit in basic chemistry, but it would take away from his alone-time with his dearest-but-totally-oblivious-to-his-affections Maddie. "I don't know, Jack," he muttered, obviously looking for an actual excuse. "I don't think she'd like…"

"_One lab_," I begged, "just one. I can't take '_Groovy'_ Julietoday. All I need is one day away from her and her brainlessness."

"Jack, we need to get going. We're going to be late."

"Translation: Maddie's going to think you're not going to show and pick someone else to work with."

Vlad's eyes narrowed. "You're not making your case very well with the sarcasm."

"I'll do anything." I really would too. I scooted a little closer, practically kissing his shoes. "I'll… I'll do your homework – you've got that physics paper due, I'll do that. I'll give you the fudge my mom sent me. Or… or…" An idea hit and I grinned. "I'll help you get Maddie to go on a date with you."

Vlad took a small step backwards, but his hard expression was loosening. "What could you do?" he asked slowly.

"I'm good at that!" I said cheerfully, grinning at the fact that I was _this _close to not having to deal with Julie today. Vlad was putty in my hands. "I can get her to go on a date with you, no sweat."

He still didn't look totally convinced, but when he nodded his head, I jumped to my feet with a shout, pumping my arm in the air. "You're the best, V-man."

"Don't call me that," he muttered darkly, but I ignored him. Maddie might be a supernatural nut, but I was going to actually get to do some _science_ today. Excellent!

* * *

Madeline Jameson was not pleased with the last second change, but she didn't do much more than roll her eyes and send a glare in both of our directions before sitting down in her normal chair and pull her safety glasses over her eyes. We all silently read over the directions, Maddie sighing a little when we reached the end.

"Know the answer already, don't you," I joked, a small half-grin on my face.

She glanced up, then nodded, her face blank. "It's a stupid lab – besides, I did it in high school."

"Me too," I chuckled. "pH is three, right?"

"Right." She studied me for a moment, her forehead wrinkling, obviously wanting to say something more, but not actually saying anything.

"Excellent," Vlad suddenly burst in, grabbing the lab sheet and scribbling the answer at the bottom as he babbled his thoughts. "So, we're done, right? Let's go get something to eat. I'm sure Jack has something better to do, so it'd be just the two of us, Maddie?"

Oh, no no no no _no_. I had _finally_ gotten a set of lab partners that knew _something_ about science and it was not going to be over within thirty seconds. I needed to do some actual science today before I was stuck back with Ms. '_Groovy_.' Glancing over at Maddie, I caught sight of her expression.

Perfect. She was looking for a way out of the impromptu date as well. A plan sparked in my head and a grin burst onto my face.

She shook her head. "Actually, I-"

"-think we should create that formula of yours," I announced over whatever she was planning on saying. "That endothermic reaction."

Silence fell over the table, both Maddie and Vlad staring at me with two different expressions. Maddie's was a distant look that I couldn't figure out, Vlad's was a dark glare that spoke of evil things that would happen to me tonight when I was asleep.

My smile fell. "Oh, come on. I wanted to actually do some science since I've lost my lab partner. And it's not like you had other plans – we're all supposed to be here anyway." I went for my best kicked-puppy look, turning it on full-blast. It had never failed to sway a female before (except for my mother – but that was a universal given) and I was resting all of my hopes on it. If Maddie and Vlad managed to get out the door, all was lost.

Maddie's face changed slightly. One eyebrow went up a little as her fingers drummed on the tabletop. I _still_ had no idea what she was thinking, but I crossed my fingers.

"Please?" I begged. Everything was hinging on the opinion of the Lab Partner from Hell. "It'd be fun."

"On one condition," Maddie said after a long moment, her fingers stilling from their quick tempo.

I nodded eagerly as Vlad's expression fell. "Name it."

She leaned forwards, a challenge in her eyes and her eyebrows arched. "You call it ectoplasm."

I bit the inside of my cheek to cut off what I'm sure I would have blurted otherwise. _There's no such thing as ectoplasm_. But I _really_ wanted to do something that actually tested my intelligence. "Deal," I said, holding out my hand.

After a moment, Maddie took my hand and shook it, a smile forming on her face for the first time. I blinked, startled at how it completely changed her face. She went from sour to something… _else. _Her smile was small and hesitant, but it was pretty. "Let's do this," she said.

"Yeah, let's," Vlad said sourly.

When Maddie vanished to gather the materials, Vlad leaned over to me, his eyes narrow. "What are you _thinking_," he hissed. "You promised me a _date_, remember?"

"Oh, come on, V-man," I grinned, "this won't take long. Half-hour, tops. Then I'll talk her into going to get some fries with you."

His expression darkened. "She's _mine_, just remember that."

"Yeah," I agreed, "she's the Lab Partner from Hell. You can have her."

"Good," he grinned, finally. "Now… what are we doing?"

* * *

It didn't take a half-hour; it took more like fifteen minutes. Maddie and I worked together almost scarily well. Whenever one of us needed something, the other was already handing it over, no words needing to be spoken. Vlad was almost in the way, even though all he did was sit on the other side of the table with an annoyed look on his face.

Two beakers – one with a clear liquid, the other with a green substance, one in Maddie's hand, the other in mine – was the final result. "When these combine," she whispered, almost in awe of the reaction that was coming, "it'll create a nearly perfect endothermic reaction. It'll pull the heat out of the air-"

"-and evaporate in a matter of seconds," I finished giddily. "All that energy in one spot…"

"Just do it already," Vlad muttered, waving his hand. "I'm sick of watching you two mix random things together. Get it done so we can go get some fries."

"This isn't something that can be rushed, Vlad," Maddie said, grinning at him. I watched Vlad's face as he registered the fact that she was smiling at him, fighting down a laugh at the blush that spread across his cheeks. He had it _bad. _"We've got plenty of time."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled.

I held out my beaker, holding the end over the glass jar on the table. "Shall we, Mads?"

Her beaker appeared next to mine and we both tipped them over, pouring a small amount of the contents into the jar, the liquids combining with a sizzle. They instantly started to bubble and glow, releasing intense amounts of energy. Steam rose into the air as it evaporated right before our eyes. Both of us had our chins on the table, our noses inches from the reaction taking place. Cold air boiled over the top of the glass and sent goose bumps racing down my arms.

It was green. It was viscous. It was glowing. It was a small amount of… "Ectoplasm," I whispered, startled.

Maddie grinned at me, her eyes sparkling into mine. "I heard that," she whispered back conspiratorially.

I arched an eyebrow at her teasing tone. I hadn't realized that the sour Lab Partner from Hell had a sense of humor… interesting. "You heard nothing." Sitting back as the last of it vanished, I crossed my arms with a faint smile, my mind churning on various scientific thoughts. "I hold that it'd make a groovy ice ray."

"Maybe," she agreed, biting her lower lip. "Maybe we could…"

"Alright, are we done?" Vlad said, pushing his stool backwards with a squeak. "Can we get some fries now?"

I blinked at him for a long moment, distracted by my own thoughts. I had the _perfect_ design for a freeze ray based off a double-barreled water gun lost in my head. One set of chemicals in each barrel, combining in the air like a flamethrower. There was a small, distant grin on my face, but I couldn't seem to care. "This is… _bogus_," I breathed.

Maddie was likewise trapped in another world, causing Vlad to glower even more. "We've got to do that again," she finally whispered. Excitement was making her voice quiver and a grin was set firmly on her face.

"Definitely," I said as I reached for one of the beakers.

Vlad had other ideas. He snatched the two beakers off of the table and held them firmly, glaring at me. "What's so hard about this? Let's just pour them together and get out of here."

"No, Vlad," Maddie said, holding out her hand, but Vlad was already pouring both beakers into the glass jar. He upended them both, creating a huge reaction in the beaker… which instantly froze.

I jumped out of my chair as the beaker shattered in the cold, the freezing evaporating ectoplasm spilling all over the lab table with a sizzle. Grabbing Maddie's arm, I yanked her backwards in time to avoid getting a lapful of it. She stumbled, pressing up against me as she fought to keep her balance. We watched, wide-eyed, as the liquid bubbled and fizzled and dripped onto the floor in a glowing, gooey mess.

That's when it happened – the complete accident that led us off on a tangent. Up until that point, I would have been content with a personal freeze ray and my portion of a multi-million dollar patent for a new form of refrigeration. I had no _clue_ about what I was about to witness, and it changed the rest of my life.

Vlad lurched out of his chair, slamming up against another group of lab partners that were still working on their original lab assignment. Something went flying – a ring of some kind – and it landed in the middle of our lab table. Ectoplasm fizzled, super-chilling the metal ring in an instant. Then…

It started to glow. Like the ectoplasm, but different – _more_ somehow. Energy flowed, swirled, collected, and discharged in the middle of the ring, sparkling like a little star. I leaned forwards carefully, edging over the freezing table, gazing into the glow. "Bogus," I whispered. "Mads, look…"

Her hand pressed against my arm as she leaned over. "What is that?"

Suddenly, something inside the glowing ring moved, two red eyes staring up at us, an ethereal clawed hand reaching towards us. We both jerked backwards as the last of the ectoplasm evaporated and the glow died away, leaving the sizzling ring lying on the table.

"What was that?" Maddie breathed, her hand fisted into the cloth of my shirt.

"I don't know," I answered softly, my mind spinning. "Some other dimension? Another world? Some kind of wormhole?"

Vlad was brushing himself off, glaring at table. "Stupid chemicals. I hate science."

"It was… a portal," Maddie said in a daze. "That was a ghost. That was… a portal… to a ghost. To a ghost world."

I stared at her, transfixed by the memory of what I'd seen. It sure hadn't been human, that's for sure. Whether or not it was really a _ghost_ was up for grabs, but I was willing to go out on a limb for a moment. "And…" I didn't know what to say next, reaching forwards to brush a finger over the still-cold ring that had burned a circle in the tabletop.

"And we've got to do that again." Maddie picked up the ring with a pair of forceps, studying it carefully. "Magnetism maybe?"

Nodding, I glanced over at Vlad. I _had _promised, after all. "But first, let's get some fries. And some fudge," I added with a grin.

Maddie looked up at me and smiled, still pressed up against my side, not having moved away. "Excellent idea, Jack. I'd love to get some fries with you."

_When did the Lab Partner from Hell get to be so beautiful?_ I chuckled. "This is the start of a _beautiful_ partnership."

* * *

Uploaded August 3, 2008  
Ah... for the love of Jack.  
Thanks for reading!


	99. One Missed Message

__

Angst. Angst, angst, **oozing** angst.

Only one more chapter to go! :cries:

* * *

**One Missed Message  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I dropped into my chair for second period math with a sigh, absently rubbing the back of my neck. Sam, who was already sitting down, gave me a weird look right off the bat. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," I muttered. It really _was_ nothing - I wasn't sure why it was bothering me so much. My parents did this all the time, but for some reason it was rankling in the back of my mind, frustrating and annoying me. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to get my head around the idea that I was in school. I had to stop thinking about it. I was at school; my parents were somewhere… else.

"What's wrong?" came Tucker's voice and I popped my eyes open to stare up at him with an annoyed look. Was _everyone_ going to bug me today?

"Why does everyone think something is wrong?" I snapped.

He blinked at me, taking an overly dramatic step backwards and raising a hand to his heart as if he were mortally wounded. "For starters," he drawled, "your tone is a clue."

"That, and you looked like someone kicked your dog," Sam chimed in unhelpfully. "Ghost problems?"

Shaking my head sourly, I sank lower in my chair and tried to look as not-conversational as I could, hoping that they would pick up on the 'shut up and drop it' vibe. It was really pathetic that this stupid little thing was affecting me this much. Really… it was _nothing_! But it curled around in my stomach and kept poking the back of my mind. Why hadn't they at least called?

"Family problems?" Tucker asked as he made it to his seat, his eyes glittering with interest.

I groaned and rubbed my temples. They weren't going to let me off the hook until I told them. I didn't want to tell them – it was such a small thing – but if they were going to pick at it and annoy… "They didn't come home last night," I muttered finally, frustrated.

"Don't they do that all the time?" Sam said with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes!" I exploded, then dropped my voice back to a more normal level. "I have no idea why it's bothering me that they got side tracked _again_. Every other trip they take gets delayed due to some supernatural something or other. Their last one-day trip turned into a four-day adventure, remember."

"Where'd they go, again?" he asked distractedly. Tucker dug out his notebook, apparently ignoring me now that he knew what my problem was.

Dragging out my own notebook, I replied, "Just a couple hours away to the university. They brought Jazz there to see the school." And they said they'd be home in time for supper and they didn't even bother to call and tell me that they had gotten distracted. _Jazz_ didn't even call and let me know.

I hesitated at that – maybe that's what was bothering me. Jazz was normally neurotic about calling and letting people know where she was. To not get a call from her was… odd. It was possible that they weren't in range of a cell phone tower, but they'd have to have gone a _long_ distance out of their way. And Jazz would have called before they left cell phone range.

With a sigh, I glanced up at the clock and waited for the bell to ring. Maybe math would be able to drive all the thoughts out of my head. I was tired of my mind sending various dooms-day scenarios for me to chew on. _No_, my family hadn't been abducted by ghosts, government agents, aliens, or Santa Claus impersonators. _No_, my family hadn't gotten lost. _No_, they hadn't been blown up in the Nasty Burger. They'd be there when I got home from school, not even realizing the torment I'd gone through, making supper or tinkering on some stupid ghost thing.

I was just being paranoid. One idiotic missed phone call, that was it.

I took a deep breath. Get over it, Fenton. Paranoia is not a good thing for half-ghosts.

* * *

The speakers crackled to life about a half-hour later, the math teacher wincing to a halt at the nails-on-chalkboard squeak. "Would Mr. Fenton please report to the office, ready to leave?"

I traded a glance with Sam, a sour half-grin on my face. This was the answer to where they'd gone – they were on some ghost adventure and they'd remembered to come pick me up. _Joy_. Even as I was throwing my stuff in my backpack, I was wondering how long _this_ trip would last. "See ya," I whispered to my two friends, slipped out of the room, and wandered towards the office.

What kind of supernatural thing could they have run into just a few hours away? I rolled my eyes with a small chuckle. How many new inventions would I have to dodge or 'fix' over the next few days?

Pushing open the doors to the office, I scanned for my parents, confused when I came up empty. Kwan was sitting in one of the chairs and the secretary was busy typing on her computer. Other than that, the place was quiet and deserted. The door closed behind me and the secretary looked up. "They're waiting for you in the principal's office," she said softly, "just go right in."

My mind instantly back-tracked: my parents weren't here to drag me on some crazy trip, not if they were waiting in the office. I forced my feet to move towards the door, a small tendril of fear brushing against my mind. What if they found out about Phantom? Was that why they didn't come home? Or… what else could they have figured out?

I turned the knob and stuck my head cautiously around the door. Principal and two police officers – no parents, no ghost weapons, no traps…

Police officers?

Confused, I stepped into the small room and closed the door behind me, looking from one adult to the other. Principal Ishiyama gestured towards one of the seats and I slipped into it, studying the two officers that were watching me with strange looks on their faces.

I quickly went over everything I'd done the past month or so – as Fenton and as Phantom – and came up almost clean. The ghosts had been really quiet lately and, other than a few damaged parking meters, I couldn't think of anything I'd get in trouble for. "What's up?" I asked, going for confident but coming out a little raspy. Crossing my fingers, I waited and prayed that they wouldn't start grilling me about my double life as a ghost.

"Mr. Fenton… Danny," one of them said, his voice reassuring and calm, "we've got some news for you." He dropped into a crouch, looking up at me with sad eyes. "It's not… good."

I narrowed my eyes, unable to come up with a single reason why this man was acting like this.

"There was an accident last night," he said softly, "out on highway 65, about an hour from here."

Nodding, I stayed quiet, still not able to connect the dots. What did this have to do with me?

"Your parents were involved. The van they were in flipped and went over the edge of a cliff."

The world came to a complete and total stop. Nothing moved. Nothing happened, except for that unstoppable voice that kept drilling into my thoughts.

"There wasn't much anyone could do, Danny. Your mother and your sister died before anybody got to them."

_No_…

"Your father's in the hospital. He's not doing well – he's very hurt."

_No_…

"Danny, we're going to take you to the hospital so you can see him, okay? And we'll figure all of this out. It'll be fine."

_How could it be fine_? I thought I heard someone screaming, but nobody was making a sound. It must have been in my head – someone inside of me was screaming.

"Danny?"

The world still wasn't moving. And that person in my head wouldn't stop screaming.

"Danny? Say something, please."

I couldn't say anything, I couldn't move, not until the world started turning again.

"Danny?"

"Danny?"

* * *

The next thing I knew I was standing in the lobby of the hospital. The two police officers were nowhere to be seen – that didn't bode well for how I'd gotten over here, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I stumbled towards the receptionist. "I… I'm here to see Jack Fenton," I whispered.

The lady looked through her files. "He's in ICU. No visitors," she said, turned around, and ignored me.

"But…" I swayed a little on my feet, staring at her in disbelief. "But…"

One of the nurses who'd been looking through the files glanced over at me. Her eyes softened with worry when she saw me. "What's your name?" she asked, walking over and leaning on the counter.

"Danny," I answered in a daze. "Danny Fenton. Jack's my dad."

Instantly, I saw understanding in her eyes. "Sweetie," she whispered, actually jumping over the counter and wrapping her arms around me. "Where are the officers who went to get you?"

"I…" I had no idea. "I went ahead."

A look crossed her face, a little bit of frustration mixed with annoyance. "Come on, I'll show you where he is." Her arm stayed firmly around my shoulders as she started to direct me through the maze of hallways in the Amity Park hospital. "I'm one of the ER nurses – I helped with your father when he came in," she said softly. "How much did the officers tell you?"

"They said he's not doing good." I wasn't really sure what I was saying; I was focused primarily on keeping my feet moving and not having the world stop again. I was worried that the next the time world stopped, it wouldn't restart.

"No… no he's not. He's got a lot of broken bones and he lost a lot of blood." She smiled at me, but I barely noticed. "But he's made it this far, and that's impressive."

I paid no attention to the turns we took or the number of doors we had to pass through. She kept talking, trying to cheer me up and make me feel better, but I had stopped listening. It didn't really matter what she said. Nothing seemed quite real. Maybe I'd wake up soon. Or Tucker would jump out in front of me with his stupid PDA and yell 'surprise'. Or maybe this was some kind of joke… some sick idea of a joke.

Eventually, we were in front of a room with a small number twelve on the door. She pushed open the door and I walked in.

It wasn't a joke.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

The doctor was gone. He'd gotten frustrated with the fact that I hadn't said anything – I'd just stared at my father the whole time he was talking to me. It was probably for the best that he'd left. I hadn't heard a word; he'd have to repeat it later anyways.

_Beep. Beep_. The soft sound of the heart monitor was a lot more soothing than most people said it was. I just sat in the chair, staring at the bandages that surrounded my dad, and listened to the sound.

_Beep_.

The room smelled of antiseptic and lemons and the harsh lights buzzed overhead, but I ignored them.

_Beep_.

"Daniel Fenton?"

I sighed in my own head. Another visitor. I just wanted to be left alone for a little longer. I needed to make this _real_ before I could think about anything else. Ten more minutes.

_Beep_.

"Danny, my name is Clarice Olman. I'm the county social worker."

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

"Danny, can you talk to me?"

_Beep. Beep_.

"Danny?" I felt a hand touch my shoulder but I didn't move or answer.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep_.

"Danny, I'm going to be back in about an hour. I'd like you to talk to me when I come back, okay?"

_Beep_.

"I'll bring you some lunch, sweetheart. Everything will be fine."

_Beep_.

Then I was alone again.

* * *

Clarice Olman set a tray in my lap, then settled into the chair next to me. "Ready to talk?"

I shook my head, looking down at the hamburger and french fries she'd gotten for me. I wasn't hungry.

"That's okay. I just need you to listen, is that alright?"

I nodded slowly.

"Do you understand what's happened? That there was an accident?"

Again, I nodded. My eyes were starting to burn and it was getting hard to breathe. I didn't want her to talk about it – I wanted her to go away.

"Your dad is very hurt, Danny. The doctors are saying he probably won't ever wake up." She hesitated, reaching out to touch my shoulder again.

I wanted to shake her hand off, but I couldn't get up the energy to move. And I _really_ wanted her to stop talking. If she didn't say it, it wasn't real yet. Dad would wake up, he'd get better, and… and… The burning in my eyes got worse and the room started to swim.

"We need to come up with a plan for you, Danny. We need to know you have someplace to go; someone to take care of you. I'd like your input." Her hand fell away. "There's a couple of options right now – I can put you in a temporary home, just until we find out more about your father, or we can try and find a relative. Do you have someone you want us to call or do you want me to pick?"

I stared at the wall. Tears had started to escape from my eyes, but I didn't reach up to brush them away.

"That's okay if you want me to do it for you, Danny," she said softly. "I understand."

"Just temporary?" I rasped. "Just until my dad gets better?"

There was a long pause. "Yes, Danny. Just until we find out more about your father."

She didn't say that he'd get better, I picked up on that. My eyes closed. "None of my family lives in the area," I whispered.

"That's okay," she answered soothingly.

"I could stay with the Foleys," I said softly.

Again, there was a long pause. "Are they a family friend?"

I nodded.

"I'll look into it, Danny."

Then she was gone.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said softly, reaching out and carefully touching his bandaged forehead. He'd always seemed so indestructible. He could do anything, go anywhere, and never have a thing wrong with him. I'd seen him fall out of trees, trip down stairs, and collapse whole shelving units on him with not even a scratch. If there was one person in the world who I never thought I'd see get hurt, it was him.

"I'm so sorry." I wasn't sure what I was sorry for, but it felt good to say it. "You're going to get better, and everything is going to be good, right?" I was grasping at straws. "You'll make it better. You always made everything better. You can fix anything – you're Jack Fenton."

I bit my lip, my hands fisting in his blanket. "The indestructible Jack Fenton."

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Mom and Jazz are…" I couldn't spit it out. "Mom and Jazz…" My mouth felt dry. "It's just you and me, Dad. You and me. And we're going to be okay, right?"

_Beep. Beep._

"Everything's going to be fine. You focus on getting better, okay? I'm going to stay with Tucker's family, so don't worry about me." My voice was cracking. "Just… get better."

My cell phone suddenly dinged, making me jump. I stared at my father for a few more moments before turning away and digging my phone out of my backpack. _One missed message_, the phone read. I gazed at it for a long minute.

Curiosity over who had called won over the dazed, sick feeling of the room I was in. Maybe it was Sam or Tucker or… an aunt or something. I had to listen to it. Licking my lips, I hit the voice mail button and put the phone on speaker. _"This is an automated recording from AmityCell. We apologize that the delivery of the following message was delayed. Message recorded yesterday at 4:15pm. To play this message, press one."_

I pressed one… and the world crashed down around me.

_"Hey, Danny! It's Jazz. We're on our way home. I hated the university, so I'll be going on another trip – next time you've got to come with. We're on time, bro; Mom says we'll pick up pizza for supper. See you soon! Oh, and Mom says to say we love you."_

_"To save this message, press three. To delete…"_

I stared down at the phone. My ears were ringing – it sounded like some kind of alarm was going off. I just sat there, dazed, waiting for it to stop.

_Mom says to say we love you…_

Someone brushed passed me and I looked up. Nurses were crowding around my father's still form.

That's when I realized the steady, reassuring beep of the heart monitor was gone. The alarm wasn't just in my head; it was real.

_Bee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee…_

* * *

Uploaded August 6, 2008  
See you for chapter 100!  
Thanks for reading!


	100. Star Shots

_140,000 words. 298 pages of text. 100 stories (give or take). Over 1700 reviews, well over a hundred thousand pageviews, over a hundred favorites and a dozen C2s… I'm going to start to cry, now that this is over. It's been a blast, and I love each and every one of you. EVERY review is cherished and loved to pieces._

_And now… for the end._

* * *

**Star Shots**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

Danny grinned, dropping the last box on the hastily-set-up card table with a muted clatter. "Finally!" he crowed, twirling around with his arms open and laughing. "I'm _free!"_

"Not quite," Sam said, rolling her eyes at Danny's overdramatic display and opening the box to pull out the bits and pieces that had been stuffed unceremoniously inside. Three pizza cutters, two ice cream scoops, and a mangy collection of forks and spoons were quickly organized into piles on the table. "You still live in Amity Park and your parents expect you home every weekend to help clean the leftovers out of the fridge."

"Close enough." Danny couldn't let the grin die as he surveyed his tiny apartment. He'd finally saved up enough money to move out of his parents' house while he finished his degree at the local college. Nothing could dim his excitement about his first place – not the shag seventies-orange carpet, not the yellow stove, and definitely not the cigarette burns in the floor or the pea-soup smell of the place. It was far from perfect, but it was _his _in a way that made him smile.

Collapsed on the old couch Danny had found at a garage sale a few days previously, Tucker glanced over at Danny's small TV, shuddering a little at the antenna set on top. "No cable. No internet. No satellite uplink. How are you going to survive?"

"Technus-free," Danny said happily, knocking on one of the dog-chewed kitchen cabinets.

"True," Tucker grumbled, putting his foot up on one of the half-emptied boxes littering the floor. "Gotta watch out for the Box Ghost, though."

Sam, still sorting through the box on the card table and ignoring the boys' banter, wrinkled her nose in confusion when she pulled out two _more_ pizza cutters, then shook her head. "You're paying four hundred a month for this dump?"

"It's better than your apartment," Danny shot back and decided that he'd done enough unpacking for the day. Sauntering over to the couch, passing straight through a teetering stack of newly-emptied boxes, he sat down next to his friend.

Sam stared around Danny's new apartment for a few seconds, trying to decide if the entire thing would fit into her bedroom. She sighed. "This place has enough spiders and cockroaches to occupy a small _country_, Danny. If you cleaned out all the spider webs the walls would fall down. I don't see what's so great about it." She pulled _another_ set of pizza cutters out of the box and gave an exasperated groan. "And what's with the pizza cutters? You've got, like, seven of them!"

"You can never have enough pizza cutters," Danny said solemnly.

"Amen," Tucker added, holding up the TV remote like a glass of wine after a toast. He pushed the power button but Danny stole the remote before Tucker could find something to watch. "Hey!"

"My apartment, my TV, my remote… I get to pick." Danny flipped thought the fuzzy stations the TV antenna could pick up, searching for something that was relatively watchable. "And, Sam, my apartment is much better than yours for one simple reason."

Giving up on putting things away, Sam made her way across the small room to plop down next to her friends on the couch. "That is…?"

Danny slipped his free arm around her shoulders, pulled her close to his side, and grinned. "_My_ parents don't have a key to _my_ apartment."

Sam glowered for a moment, crossing her arms and easily remembering the number of times her parents had snuck into her apartment the past few months in an attempt to make her more 'sociable'. "Point," she muttered darkly.

"Your parents don't need a key, Danny… they could just blow a hole in the wall," Tucker said with a shrug and a forlorn glance at the low-quality pictures Danny was surfing through. "Maybe that would increase the reception on your antenna."

"'S not a TV antenna anymore," Danny said distractedly after he settled on a baseball game, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as he watched. "My parents 'modified' it."

Both Sam and Tucker hesitated, exchanging glances. Cryptic Fenton technology was not usually a good thing to have in a small space with the local half-ghost. "What's it supposed to do?" Tucker finally asked.

"Aside from collect dust?" Danny shrugged helplessly, unable to drag his eyes away from what was happening on the television. "Nothing, as far as I could tell. But now… Tucker… did you hook it up to the TV?"

"Yeah. I thought it was an antenna. Why?"

"Oh." Danny gave a half-smile and leaned back on the couch. "No reason." On the screen, the batter vaporized the baseball with an ectoblast before vanishing, apparently choosing to run to first base invisibly. The first baseman blocked the oncoming runner with a ghost shield long enough for the wolf-like pitcher to locate another ball and tag the invisible player out.

The three friends fell into a comfortable silence, sitting on the old couch, watching the game play itself out. Sam rested her head on Danny's shoulder and shook her head in a bit of disbelief. "Ghosts play baseball."

"Apparently," Danny agreed. "Looks like it's the bottom of the seventy-third inning, tied at zero to zero. Nobody must be able to get on base."

"How long does a ghost baseball game go on?" Sam asked, curious.

Danny shrugged. "They've got to run out of baseballs eventually."

Tucker yawned. "As fun as it would be to watch an eternity of baseball, the fireworks are going to start without us and we need to get to the field to claim our spots." He pushed himself to his feet and grinned. "Come on, lovebirds."

Danny ignored his friend, tucking Sam a little closer so that she couldn't get up either. She was warm and soft and comfortable against him. "The fireworks don't start for five hours, Tuck."

"You know how the good spots go early," Tucker exclaimed, pulling out his PDA and showing Danny a graph on the screen. "I've got data on the last seven years of Amity Park Founding Day Fireworks, and the research shows that the best spots – with lack of tree coverage, no wet spots, close to the vendors, and far enough away from the jocks that we don't get tormented – are, statistically, gone by 4:08 and the picks of even 'adequate' spots decrease exponentially after that! That gives us only a half-hour to get to the park…"

"Alright, alright," Danny breathed, finally letting Sam get to her feet before drifting to his own. "Geez, Tucker. Calm down. They're just fireworks."

Shaking his head, Tucker disagreed. "This is the hundredth birthday of Amity Park. Our centennial! These fireworks will be a once-in-a-century display, set to music. I heard that Ember's even going to play."

Sam and Danny groaned in unison, rolling their eyes and allowing Tucker to lead them towards the door as he went into detail about what they were going to see. Danny grabbed his apartment key on the way out, making sure to lock the door behind him.

* * *

"I still say celebrating Amity Park's birthday is a waste of resources," Sam said as she handed out cold sodas, the fireworks scheduled to start in just moments. It had been an interesting five hours sitting in the park. Danny and Tucker had managed to lose a game of three-way War in record time, they'd wasted too much money on food and drinks from the vendors that had taken up positions in the park, and all three of them were decked out in multiple glow-in-the-dark necklaces.

"There'd be a riot if they quit," Tucker said simply as he grabbed his can with a smile of thanks. The geek had purchased a dozen of the glowing necklaces and had formed them into a long strand before winding it around his chest and stomach. "I'd start it."

Danny relaxed against the ground, staring up into the appearing stars, his hands behind his head on the warm grass. "It's a good community thing, Sam," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the conversations taking place all around them. "How often do you get everyone in Amity Park to get together like this?" He hesitated, a grin. "I mean, how often does that happen when they _don't_ have pitchforks, torches, or ectoguns, formed into a giant mob, hunting for me?"

Tucker chuckled softly, opening his soda can and holding it up for a real toast. "Here's to a hundred years of Amity Park. May they stop trying to kill you."

"Here, here," Danny laughed, sitting up to grab his soda from Sam and clinking it against Tucker's. "I'll drink to people stopping hunting me."

"May we have a hundred more years," Sam added with a smile, "without getting sucked into other dimensions, invaded, or wiped off the globe."

Danny shook his head with a wry grin. "You're asking for too much, Sammy."

All three friends chuckled as they touched their sodas together and took a drink. Overhead, a huge explosion of light caught their attention as the fireworks started. Grainy, echoing music blasted out of hastily set up speakers, the fireworks making an obvious attempt to explode in time to the music.

Danny snuck an arm out and curled it around Sam's shoulders, tucking her close as they watched the bright reds and blues and yellows in the sky.

"They're so pretty," Sam whispered, her fingers finding and interweaving into his. Another firework exploded in the air, showering them in sparkling lights. "Each one is like its own little story. A small plot line that shoots up into the air and bursts into something spectacular."

"It's kind of sad how they're all so short, though," Tucker commented softly. "One little flash and its all over."

"They're meant to be," Sam answered with a smile. "And they're not over… they're just the beginning of something special. Each one a blast of light in the dark – just like a star."

"Still," Tucker yawned, "I wish they'd continue forever."

"They can't," Danny finished, letting a contented grin settle onto his face as he looked down at the warm girl tucked close to him. "There's got to be an end at some point. They're just star shots after all."

* * *

Written August 29, 2008  
_Watch for the first drabble in the new series soon! 'Star Shots' is about to go __**supernova**__…  
Thank you SO MUCH for reading!_


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